Youngblood
by Crazychicke
Summary: Based on 2x08, Santa grants Hope a Christmas wish. Instead of Landon, Hope greets Kol, her uncle, who remembers her, and gives her a new spell book. They do a time travel spell together to see her parents meet but end up in 1942. Time-travel AU with a twist. -Request-
1. Hope's wish

**Disclaimer: not mine, borrowed and nurtured. A/N: Not sure if anyone is reading these but was inspired by Nikki's prompt: 'Uncle Kol visiting Hope at SBS for a trip/update on new spells/pranks etc and with Davina/Aunt Freya intervening every now and then to prevent them from getting naughty ideas'. Enjoy this time-travel AU with a twist set 2x08 (& TVD 4x08). Based on my moodboard on tumblr.**

**YOUNGBLOOD**

**i**

_I love you for all that you are_

_all that you've been_

_and all that you are yet to be_

Hope Mikaelson raised her eyes to the night sky, alone again on Christmas. Seeing the stars in the distance reminded her of her parents, unreachable; in a world far from hers. She stood on the back step of the Salvatore Boarding School, having saved her home for the umpteenth time – from Krampus, a monster unlike _The Grinch_ which she and her Uncle Kol watched together when she was seven.

It was a surprise to see Santa Claus fighting Krampus in the common room, with the intention to kill. She saw qualities similar to that of her aunt Rebekah, who would have done the same if her own traditions were threatened. Seeing Josie, Kaleb, Alaric and Dorian cheery-eyed, with cookies, eggnog and Christmas jumpers only reminded her of how much she hated Christmas.

How could she enjoy it, with her parents in Heaven?

Tears glistened in her eyes, and if it weren't for Santa's voice in her head, she may have missed it – a comet: _'Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas, Hope!' _She let a smile escape her, just one which lifted her spirits, to remind her, sometimes miracles do exist. She lowered her gaze, soaking in the lights surrounding her. It was as if Santa knew her secret, but of course that was his special power.

There, standing behind her was Kol, wearing his cocky grin, hidden beneath a small beard.

Words were lost to her, stuck in the back of her throat.

She ran to him, wrapping her shaking arms around him and thanking Santa for hearing her wish.

"You remember me?" she whispered against his chest.

Kol kissed the top of her brunette head. "How could I forget my favourite niece?"

He pulled something from his leather jacket, a spell book, the size of a small diary.

"Brought you a present, thought we could do some spells together, like old times?"

Hope flicked through the tattered pages of the book, seeing spells for basic charms to dark magic.

She studied some of the spells, intrigued, but eventually her excitement died down when she remembered Alaric and Caroline's rules. "We're not allowed to practice dark magic here."

Kol put his hand over hers.

"There's no spells to resurrect the dead, but there is one that could let you see your parents again."

Hope felt a pang of guilt and relief wash over her, seeing him had closed the void in her heart only a little.

"How?" she breathed, determined to discover his intention.

Kol smiled, turning the pages. "Time travel, all you need is patience, and page 325."

Hope thought of the stories she'd heard from Kol, Rebekah and Davina of the first time her parents met, teenagers, in the Lockwood manor. Her mother, Hayley Marshall had been helping Tyler Lockwood and his pack break free of Klaus' sire bond. Klaus Mikaelson, her father, had been promised twelve hybrids, a pack he would lead against Silas, the witch. Much to Caroline Forbes, Elena Gilbert and the Salvatore's surprise, it was Hayley who betrayed them, telling Klaus of Tyler's plan, so he could sacrifice his twelve hybrids, resurrecting Silas and unleashing him on Mystic Falls. Hayley's actions were fuelled by her desire to find her parents, her family. After going on the run from Katherine Pierce, Hayley went to the only person she knew Katherine feared – Klaus, and it was then, after a home-cooked meal, several pinot noirs and bonding over their destructive childhoods, Hope was conceived.

A one-night stand that ultimately led to both her parent's deaths, as well as that of her uncle, Elijah.

Her family's motto was a lie, there was no '_Always and Forever'_, it did not exist.

What was left of her family was just trying to stay alive in a world that feared being different.

She remembered seeing Josie and Landon kissing when she first returned from Malivore, even Lizzie had moved on with a mysterious vampire named Sebastian. MG hadn't shut up about meeting Kaleb's sister Kym, and Rafael had found his father – she wanted to be supportive, but it was hard, because it was clear there was no place for her; she remained an outcast and she craved an escape.

**A/N: Because I like this fic, and it's most likely going to be longer than drabble length, stay tuned for the rest which will be uploaded as its own fic under the title 'Youngblood'.**


	2. New Orleans

**Disclaimer: not mine, borrowed and nurtured. A/N: Yes, I borrowed the idea from Captain Swan visiting how Snow x Charming met, as an excuse to write about Klayley and TVD gang, what of it.**

**YOUNGBLOOD**

**ii**

_be a rainbow _

_in someone else's cloud_

_Mystic Falls, 1942_

Hope opened her eyes, hands in those of her uncle Kol's, on the steps of the Salvatore Boarding House, as though the spell had taken no effect. She felt a breeze on her pores and saw the Christmas lights surrounding her had disappeared. The school was quiet, no essence of witches, werewolves or vampires in the halls… in fact, there were no Christmas decorations at all.

"Did it work?" Hope whispered.

"Judging by the lack of Salvatores in the vicinity, I'm guessing yes."

They walked through the kitchen, finding dishes in the sink, someone had left in a hurry.

Kol pulled a newspaper with a photograph of soldiers towards him, and grimaced.

"Dorothy we're not in Kansas anymore," he quoted.

Hope glanced over his shoulder at the date, disappointed.

"My mother wasn't alive in 1942, Kol."

Kol sighed, flicking though the newspaper as if it would reveal something important by the end.

"Don't blame me, you were on the other side of that spell."

Hope knew Hayley's birthday was June 6th, 1991, so why would the spell send her here?

"Where were you in '42?" Hope asked, taking in the photographs of Stefan and Damon's childhood.

She knew from Josie and Lizzie that Damon had married Elena Gilbert, and Caroline, their mother had married Stefan Salvatore only to be widowed on the same day. It wasn't only the Mikaelsons who'd grieved tragic deaths in the family.

Kol turned to Hope with a shrug, "Daggered since 1914 and put in a coffin by your dear old dad."

Hope licked her bottom lip, finding the boarding house eerier than usual.

"Maybe that's a good thing? You won't run into yourself and change the time continuum."

Kol raised an eyebrow at her. "I forgot how much of a nerd you are."

"Shut up!" Hope punched Kol in the arm. "MG and I binged _The Flash_ on Netflix last summer."

Kol ran his finger over the long dining table in what was the common room, the fire dwindling in the fireplace. Someone had definitely been there. Hope remembered meeting Stefan Salvatore once, he had come to her dad for help and somewhere to hide when Rayna, the vampire hunter chased him.

She had never seen her dad so scared, scared of losing his family, of losing her.

"I haven't been here in years, not since visiting Elena and Jeremy Gilbert, but that's another story," Kol admitted, giving her a wink.

Hope walked past what would have been _Stefan's Memorial Library_, finding the artefacts replaced by many books and journals, which covered each wall. She was reminded of Kol's pursuit of magic and wondered what it was he wanted from 1942. This was not like their usual pranks, there was something more here, something he hadn't explained.

"So why 1942? We can't intervene with the events of the past, or else we'll mess up our futures and anything we do could change our lives as we know it," Hope thought aloud.

Kol flipped the newspaper over and took Hope's shoulders in his hands.

"Magic has a power of its own, Hope. I'm in the dark, as much as you are."

Hope looked up the ceiling, realizing they truly were alone in the past, with no idea where to go next. She had no friends, no family bar Kol, and just her magic to keep her afloat. Why was 1942 important to her parents? What had happened for the spell to think this date was vital?

"Come on, we stick out like sore thumbs, let's see if the Salvatore's have any taste in fashion."

Kol opened Stefan's wardrobe, finding it mostly empty, "Looks like he was conscripted, after all."

Entering Damon's room, Kol went straight to the wardrobe, opened the doors, and found clothes.

He began tossing them onto the floor, trying on jackets and suits, which only led to her understanding he meant to leave the boarding house for answers. He pulled up a pair of braces, tucked in his shirt, combed his hair, and trimmed his beard, all the while mumbling Davina wouldn't approve, when it was his idea all along.

Hope paused by the mantlepiece, a photograph of Damon and Stefan in suits, ten years apart caught her eye. She wondered what her parents would think, maybe she _was_ on a wild goose chase?

* * *

Hope found some ripped jeans, a blue beret, and a grey cardigan in Damon's wardrobe which made her look like something out of _Oliver Twist_, but she had more important things to do then worry about how she looked - this wasn't a fashion contest, this was her life.

She and Kol had not encountered anyone from the past yet. Currently, the only people she knew who existed in this time, were Stefan and Damon Salvatore, and Katherine Pierce. Kol, Rebekah and Elijah were presently daggered in coffins by her father Klaus. Her half-brother Marcel, she presumed was building New Orleans into the city it would soon be.

Katherine according to memory would have been on the run, since the moonstone fiasco. The last time she'd brushed up on her vampire history, had been ten years ago, and even Freya would not exist, waking only one day every hundred years to save energy, imprisoned by their psycho Aunt Dahlia, her fraternal grandmother's sister.

Hope was a Mikaelson, but her family was far from perfect.

Hope adjusted her beret in a dusty old mirror, surprised to hear a familiar judging voice.

"What the hell are you wearing, Hope?"

"Give her a break, Lizzie, she wasn't as fortunate as we were, waking up in Lexi's bedroom."

Hope spun on her heels, answering in a croaky voice. "You recognise me?"

"Of course, we do, Hope _Andrea_ Mikaelson!"

"What are you doing here?" Hope explained, hugging the Saltzman twins.

"You tell me, you're the one hanging out with handsome vampire boyfriends," Lizzie said.

Hope rolled her eyes. "He's my uncle, Kol Mikaelson, you might have heard of him?"

Josie squinted at the man leaning against the bathroom door with a cocky grin.

"Fell in love with the Harvest witch, Davina Claire, yeah, I remember."

"I don't," Lizzie said, jumping onto Damon's bed. "So, what pray, are we doing here?"

Hope sent an enigmatic look to Kol, "I don't know, the spell must have transported us all to 1942."

Josie's gaze followed Hope's around Damon's bedroom, curious.

"Just us girls?" Josie counted, as though someone else may materialise in front of her.

Hope appreciated the brown bowler hat Josie had chosen for her aesthetic, and the simple fabric for her flowy dress, which in comparison to Lizzie's bold choice of mahogany pantsuit with braces, and buttoned yellow cardigan, just summarized their differences in personality and fashion sense.

"It seems so," Kol said, pocketing his hands in his pants.

"Well, we better get to the train station, or else we won't see either Salvatore," Josie said.

"How do _you_ know?" Lizzie queried, rolling onto her side.

Josie sighed, "Mum told us, she said Damon missed Stefan so much he wanted to go to war with him, but Lexi intervened, said Stefan deserved better and Damon should stay away from him - he was a recovering Ripper, like MG. Don't you remember?"

"I should pay more attention in history," Lizzie mumbled, rolling off the bed.

"Maybe one of us should stay here?" Josie suggested, after a beat.

"Safer if we travel together," Hope convinced them, gaining Kol's approval.

* * *

They arrived in New Orleans by train, descending the platform with eyes peeled for the Salvatores. Kol managed to weave in and out of the crowds; somehow avoiding children; unpacked luggage; families and the enlisted. Nurses caught his eye, but only briefly. He murmured a warning to Hope, Josie and Lizzie, aware of the consequences if they were caught loitering.

"Keep your eyes down, follow me but stay quiet, we can't draw attention to ourselves. Stay close, and do not talk to anyone without my permission. Any interruption in the present, could ricochet into the future, and that could destroy our chances of returning home."

Lizzie scoffed, hand on her heart. "As if I would – who is that?" she breathed, eyeing a man exiting a taxi. He had dark hair, blue eyes and a charming, yet mysterious smile, visible beneath his khaki coloured hat. His buttons were shiny, Lizzie noted, and he was tall and polite. Before she could greet the handsome vampire, breaking all of Kol's rules, Hope flung out her arm -

"That is Damon Salvatore," she hissed.

Lizzie mouthed a theatrical, 'no' then returned her gaze to the soldier.

"I can see why Elena married him," she replied.

They entered Rousseau's following Kol, whose guise as a newspaper boy, caused nobody to take any notice, or realize the newspaper he held was in fact a day old. He beckoned them to follow, indicating they linger by the back table, where they seemed to be forgotten by the other patrons.

Damon Salvatore sat at the bar with his bourbon in hand, a smile lingering on his lips – the prospect of spending the next decade with his little brother, Stefan was a happy memory, Hope presumed.

Kol indicated they sit at the table, whilst he grabbed a cannister of water, and asked a few questions of the barman. It wasn't until Lizzie complained of blisters in her second-hand shoes, that Hope noticed Stefan had entered with a beautiful blond vampire on his arm.

"Lexi Branson," Josie whispered in Hope's ear.

The conversation which prevailed wasn't a happy reunion, unlike Damon must have predicted. Lexi disapproved of the brothers spending time together, naming Damon as a bad influence on Stefan who had only just survived his ripper days of Monterey. Damon argued going to war would also not be a great idea for a reformed ripper, and that Stefan needed him. Whichever angle Damon argued, Lexi put her foot down, it would be best if Damon let Stefan be, and returned home.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just needed my little brother?" Damon asked.

Lexi gave him a stern look.

"Did it occur to you; Stefan needs to know he can do this on his own?"

Lizzie watched Damon through a crowd of young soldiers at the bar.

"Oh, just let him be there for his brother," Lizzie hissed, annoyed.

Josie cupped her hand over Lizzie's mouth, "Do you want him to hear us?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes and pushed her sister away.

Hope closed her eyes – she needed to get Kol's attention in a subtle way: connecting their thoughts she put one image into his mind – _Marcel. _

Maybe it was time to visit an old friend, after all?

* * *

Josie peered through the window at Stefan, before he became her mother's best friend and soulmate. Stefan seemed subdued, but keen to be part of something important. She couldn't imagine how it would feel being parted from Lizzie like the Salvatores, to be barred for decades apart. She remembered reading Stefan's journals, those not burned during Rayna's terror.

Klaus and Stefan were friends in the 1920s, there were whole journals dedicated to their friendship – their first meeting at Gloria's club; how Stefan danced with Rebekah, Hope's aunt, and how they compelled humans to feed them their blood. Josie remembered the part where Klaus compelled Stefan to forget him, daggering Rebekah, as Mikael, the vampire hunter, descended on them.

She recalled the name _Katerina Petrova_, more commonly known as Katherine Pierce, Elena Gilbert's ancestor. Katherine had found Rebekah's necklace and taken it for herself. She had been there in 1920 Chicago, dressed as a flapper, checking in on the love of her life, Stefan Salvatore. Josie caught Hope and Lizzie's concerned looks, and swept her gaze across the room… _where was Katherine?_

Kol found them huddled by the exit, trying to remain inconspicuous.

It was Hope's exclamation which was stifled by Lizzie's hand this time, causing Kol to turn around.

As Josie had guessed, there a few paces behind the brothers, was Katherine Pierce, dressed as nurse.

"She is the reason Stefan's dead in our time, what if we just-" Lizzie made to do a spell, but Josie grabbed her hand, warning her to stop being so careless.

"We can't change the past. Katherine turned Caroline into a vampire, she also forced Hayley to find Klaus, asking for his protection – change that and we wouldn't exist."

"It's imperative nothing changes," Kol warned, as Lizzie crossed her arms.

Hope watched Katherine laughing with her, dare she say, friends, only meters from Stefan Salvatore.

* * *

"When can we go home?" Lizzie whined, adjusting her braces and complaining they were digging into her shoulders. "I miss my own clothes."

"Not until the spell grants it," Kol replied, as they walked down Bourbon Street.

Hope turned to Josie for information. "So, Damon went home, back to Mystic Falls and…?"

Josie was like a walking encyclopaedia; she must have read every book in their school library.

"And he was kidnapped by Augustine, a secret society, then spent five years experimented on, where he met Enzo, Lorenzo St John, Bonnie's boyfriend, he'd spent fifty years imprisoned there."

"What does the spell want from us?" Hope thought aloud. "There has to be a reason?"

"To reunite you with Klaus?" Lizzie suggested, bringing up the rear.

Hope noted the empty cobblestone streets and the horses and carriages.

"Where would dad be?" she wondered, looking around, as if he might jump from behind a pillar.

Kol shook his head, "1960s he was traipsing around London after _The Beatles_, the 40s, are a blur."

"We could always ask?" Hope pushed open the door to an Occult shop before Kol could stop her.

They filed inside the shop one by one, greeted by a woman named Brynne Deveraux. She seemed kind enough, with a knowledge of magic that went beyond her years. She seemed to guess too, that the strangers were out of towners, and that they did not know about Marcel's rules. Lizzie hovered her hand over the trinkets, feeding on their energy. Josie was intrigued by the old spell books, and even Kol, pulling his cap down to hide his eyes, found himself near rare artefacts.

"We're looking for Klaus Mikaelson?" Hope said, with a hint of Lizzie Saltzman's forcefulness.

Brynne's welcoming eyes turned from warmth to shock, and then as though she'd misheard, said;

"Who did you say?"

Josie gave Hope a warning look, afraid of the consequences of that question. Thankfully, Lizzie's curiosity got the better of her, and distracted the witch by letting a bowl slip through her fingers, crashing to the floor, cracking its side. Kol jumped a foot in the air, tucking something into his shirt pocket, before herding his "friends" out the door.

"I'm so sorry, it just slipped through my fingers. I hope it's not expensive!"

Brynne called out to them, ignoring the broken bowl.

"Klaus Mikaelson was run out of New Orleans twenty years ago by Marcel Gerard. You would be wise to leave. Marcel is no friend to witches – anyone who performs magic here will be found and made an example of. It would be a shame to see such young lives wasted."

Hope understood her warning, but she could handle herself, she was a Mikaelson.

"Then perhaps you can direct us to the compound instead?" Kol suggested.

Kol held Hope and her friends back, remembering Elijah's affair with a witch masquerading under the name 'Sabine Laurent' – her real name, _Celeste Dubois_. Klaus Mikaelson had murdered her, petty revenge on their eldest brother. Celeste was known for body-jumping into new hosts. Brynne, Sophie's ancestor, did favours for Marcel Gerard, betraying her own kind.

Brynne gave them a curious look, then gave directions. It was only a matter of time before Marcel Gerard would be tracking them down, and Marcel would not be alone – it was his turn to break his own rules, he had to meet Marcel in person, but he'd protect Hope with his life, always and forever.

They stood in an alley way, out of sight, whilst they regrouped.

"I'm going to the compound alone. I'll need you to track down The Crescent Wolves. Hayley might not be born yet, but The Labonairs are alive and well," Kol said.

"Apart from the in-fighting," Lizzie answered their shocked expressions. "What, I read!"

Josie remembered something of interest, something which could help them.

"Brynne was Jane-Anne and Sophie's ancestor. Well Jane-Anne was murdered by Marcel, after casting a linking spell on Hayley, to lure Klaus to New Orleans. She discovered your mother was pregnant, with you, Hope. Maybe we could persuade her to help us get home?"

"Except you're forgetting, Brynne is possessed by Celeste Dubois, insistent on finding and destroying Klaus. If she discovered our secret, we would all be doomed."

"This is off topic, but is there a possibility there's an ascendant in this time?" Lizzie interrupted. "I mean, think about it, what if we take it, and send Celeste to a new prison world?"

Hope and Josie rolled their eyes to the Heavens.

"- our lives as we know it would be forever altered-"

"-It would be like Jinny all over again-"

Lizzie huffed. "What's the point of time travel, if we can't change anything?"

"To learn from the past," Kol muttered, checking if the coast was clear. "See you here in an hour."

* * *

Freya and Davina's eyes were shut, Latin falling off their tongues in an attempt to locate Kol, Hope, Josie and Lizzie. Lafayette Cemetery was home to many witches and humans alike. Their pendants unmoved by their spells – it was like they weren't of this world, Davina thought.

Candlelight flickered as Rebekah blew into the room with worry.

"Anything yet? Marcel's keeping Landon, Rafael, MG and Kaleb busy with errands, but it's only a matter of time before they try something stupid to rescue them themselves."

Keelin aligned the individual belongings within the chalk circle, giving Rebekah a look of reassurance.

They would try again, until the spell worked.

Davina opened her eyes, "it's not working" she had an inkling why – one of her spell books was missing, and Kol would often give them to Hope thinking she hadn't noticed, well, this particular book had a spell which could send the witch to another time.

Surely Kol hadn't, but it was the only thing that made sense, the only spell which she couldn't undo.

"Time travel," Freya whispered, reading Davina's thoughts.

Rebekah eyed Davina's diamond engagement ring; Hope's necklace she'd given to Josie to make 'quiet things heard'; Lizzie's bracelet; and Landon's navigation watch Hope had made for him.

"So, how do we rescue them?" Rebekah pressed.

"We don't, we guide them with magic," Freya replied.

Freya held out her hand, indicating Keelin, Rebekah and Davina also contribute.

She cut her palm with a knife, letting her blood mix with the objects, then she began to chant.

_Let the blood of our forefathers _

_show them the way_

_protect them if all else fails_

_and lead them home_

Rebekah felt her worries lessen, she opened her eyes to find the objects on the table had disappeared, leaving an empty table. Freya wiped sweat from her brow and leaned against her wife. Davina turned to Rebekah, giving her a kind smile: "I'll put on a pot of tea. It's up to them now."

**A/N: Tweaked the TVD universe a bit, but hey, we'll see where it takes us. Stay tuned x**


	3. Marcel Gerard

**Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowed and nurtured for fun. A/N: Woah, thanks to all the favs and reviews. Hope you enjoy this latest instalment. Reviews appreciated.**

**YOUNGBLOOD**

**iii**

_ladies don't start fights_

_but they can finish them_

Kol walked inside the compound, reminded of when he possessed Kaleb Westphall's body, and cursed Rebekah to Dowager Fauline's cottage until he forgave her for her 1914 betrayal. For this, Klaus trapped him in the compound with only Marcel's protection. It was Davina who pleaded for Marcel to protect him from the others; a witch verses a nest of vampires.

As he crossed the courtyard with Marcel Gerard on his mind, he realized 1942 should have been a time of prosperity but instead the humans were recruiting soldiers for World War II. He trod on pavestones newly laid, no weeds or cracks, just the evolution of new beginnings. He had never known Marcel Gerard, the man, only the vagabond Klaus had rescued from the Plantation.

It was imperative he sealed a deal with the King of New Orleans – no matter the cost.

Kol knew he was walking into the lion's den without magic, without back up, just his lineage and reputation – Marcel's word could be his last. His eyes darted from the balcony to the rooms above, one which had his name on it, and that of Davina's. It felt odd to be back without Davina, his wife, and any knowledge of all that had happened, all they had lost.

_Come on Marcel, where are you? Revelling in Klaus' empty throne, probably, he thought._

He could not let on that he was from another time, or that he had changed as a person, physically, and emotionally. He no longer sought to kill Klaus, in fact, he would have given his life again, if he could save his big brother's. Klaus had sacrificed himself to protect Hope, like Hayley had for them, rendering Kol, Davina and Freya her soul guardians.

The compound was eerie, most civilians had vacated for the war, except Marcel. There was a flurry of breeze and Thierry and Diego grabbed him, unsurprised Kol played the part of someone in the wrong place at the wrong time; his pleas ignored. Kol had his own reputation to protect, an Original vampire more formidable than his brother Klaus. Madder, more cunning, a _ruthless_ killer.

Most of his kills were an attempt to regain his strength after being trapped in a box for a century. It's a wonder he didn't go mad in the months after his release. Kol was thrown to the ground, two shiny leather shoes belonging to Marcel Gerard met his weary expression. His past was only a distant memory, Marcel was no longer the weak, nervous little boy, he remembered; he was a leader.

A hand was offered, "Thought you were history, Kol."

Kol, much to Thierry and Diego's surprise accepted. "You heard wrong. I don't want trouble."

"You're a Mikaelson, trouble is your middle name," Marcel grinned.

"Used to be yours too, if I remember correctly," Kol reminded him.

Marcel indicated for his friends to stand down, offering Kol a seat at a nearby table.

"Why are you here?" Marcel asked, his grin remained his only asset.

Kol dusted the dirt from his hands and clothes, thinking through his answer.

"To run with the witches, and because I have unfinished business with my brother."

Marcel ran his hand over his mouth, eyeing Thierry and Diego, who regained their territory.

"Klaus, Elijah and Rebekah left here decades ago, I don't know where they are, and I don't care to find out. New Orleans is my city now. If you wanna stay here, then you'll be working for me."

Kol dropped the tension in his shoulders, and sighed, shaking his head.

"I wish I could, but I'm just passing through," he declined.

Marcel smiled, kicking some loose stones aside, before grabbing Kol's shoulder.

"Tell Rebekah when you see her, I'll be waiting, but if Klaus returns, he's a dead man."

Kol felt the intensity in Marcel's grip, the tension of their meeting baring its expiration date.

"You'll be waiting a long time, Klaus will never approve of you with Rebekah, even if he considers you family. Rebekah is too close to his heart for him to care about anyone else. Trust me, I know."

Marcel turned to someone and beckoned for the figure to meet him.

Kol recognised the witch from the Occult store. His worries had been confirmed.

"Brynne tells me you are travelling with companions. All are welcome here, should you follow my rules – no magic in the French Quarter. Perhaps you should stay the night, and I'll show you my city. I've organized a USO event for our soldiers with jazz singers and entertainers on Bourbon street."

Kol was aware of his promise to Hope, Josie and Lizzie but could not decline Marcel's offer: a test from his former alley, no doubt. The skies were blood orange, starlings scattered from trees above and vampires emerged from balconies. Marcel had an impressive number of followers, he thought.

"I'll have to run it by them," he said, standing his ground.

"We'll expect you by 8 o'clock," his grin never faltered, but his eyes were full of mistrust.

Klaus would be shaking in his coffin, if he had one, Kol thought.

* * *

Hope, Josie and Lizzie huddled together in the bayou.

The sunset usurped all light from their trail, leaving them filled with dread. Hope was descended from both the Crescents, and her father's North Atlantic pack, but still she was nervous. Hayley was of Labonair blood, betrothed since her birth to Jackson Kenner, a Crescent wolf. Hope had to find the only other family member she knew existed: Mary Dumas, her grandmother.

She remembered her mother's stories, as mosquitoes bit her fair skin, and reeds clung to her legs.

During Lucien Castle's reign, the Mikaelsons learned of six werewolf packs. All Paxon, Basroq, Barry, Deep Water, Poldark members were tortured for their werewolf venom and killed, leaving her aunt Keelin, the only survivor of the _Malraux _pack. 1942 meant in-fighting was still at large, especially since Marcel's reign forced the packs to only occupy the bayou as their home.

If Hope, Josie and Lizzie were to survive in New Orleans without magic, they would have to focus on their strengths alone. Lizzie had the power to get whatever she wanted; Josie cared deeply for others and Hope could persuade anyone to listen, she got that from her parents: leaders, and werewolf royalty. It was Josie who held her hand, reassuring Hope of her gifts.

"You're a Labonair princess, of course they'll listen to you."

Hope sighed, "I don't know, I have a vague recollection Mary was married to a militant Alpha, hell-bent on destroying vampires. She terrified my uncle, wouldn't let him in the house. Dad too."

Lizzie halted them in their tracks, having heard a wolf howl.

"This is their territory; they have rights, AND we can't use magic?! Whose idea was this anyway?"

"Shh, Lizzie, I can see something," Hope pulled Josie, who pulled Lizzie into a clearing.

They had stumbled upon a graveyard, with hundreds of crosses. Hope touched the engraved cross: the name seemed familiar, _Lana_, but she could not put a face to it. Next to her name was a crescent moon and the letter_ A_. She passed by a dozen similar graves, wolves who had died in combat, or wars, she could not be sure. The smallest grave caught her off guard: a stillborn baby by the name of _Andrea Dumas_.

Tears welled in Hope's eye sockets; she had never known. Had Jackson or Hayley known where Hayley's birth name originated? She stifled a sob, barely able to keep herself from standing if it wasn't for Josie and Lizzie, her two pillars of support. Hope shared her name, and now an affinity with this dead baby. Her thoughts rested on the last moments she spent with both her parents:

_Klaus engraved Hayley's name into a tree; followed by his nickname for her "little wolf"; he farewelled Hayley with a kiss to her pale forehead; Hope hugged Klaus as they watched Hayley's body burn in a Viking funeral fit for a queen. These wolves, this baby, had only a cross and a pound of earth, so little… she couldn't help but cry. _

It was Lizzie and Josie's hug which comforted Hope, their friendship gave her strength.

"I'm okay, really," she wiped her face with her cardigan sleeves.

They broke apart to find a young woman with short blond hair holding a rifle in her arms.

"Step away from the grave, or I'll blow your heads off."

Hope eyed both Josie and Lizzie's startled expressions, their arms raised to the rain clouds.

"We meant no harm. We've come a long way and would like a place to rest-" Hope began.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "-I do not run a charity for vagabonds. I want you to leave."

Hope knew the woman wasn't bluffing but felt compelled to try another tactic.

"I'm sorry, about the baby. She was yours?" Hope pointed to Andrea's grave.

The woman adjusted her gun, finger on the trigger, her fiery eyes glanced in her direction.

"Whatever my loss, I do not discuss personal tragedies with strangers."

Hope lowered her arms. "I'm no stranger, my name is H-"

Josie interjected, "Harper Marshall. I'm Josette Parker, and this is Livy Parker."

"Livy?" Lizzie hissed in disgust.

Hope kicked her; she was grateful for Josie's quick thinking; they had their _present_ to protect.

"What is your business here?" Mary asked, suspicious of her trespassers.

Hope glanced at Lizzie and Josie, knowing she had to be careful and not give too much away.

"To find my family, I've a crescent birthmark on my shoulder?"

Mary Dumas grabbed Hope's cardigan, pulling it down to see for herself. Satisfied, she lowered her gun, although the temptation to still use it obviously remained.

"Marshall, no, I've not heard that name in these parts. My husband is Alpha of the Crescents, perhaps he can help you. You can rest only one night, then you are on your own."

Hope, Josie and Lizzie followed Mary into the cabin. It was only after entering Hope noticed the purple flowers from her childhood around the house. She passed photographs of a small church wedding, a bonfire with lots of happy faces and an empty nursery which gave her chills.

"There's gumbo on the stove." Mary paused. "Where are you from?" Mary handed out three bowls from the cupboard. Lizzie dished out the gumbo, whilst Josie rummaged through drawers trying to locate the cutlery, until Mary indicated 'top drawer.' Hope sat down at the table, nothing in that house had changed from memory, except for Richard's photographs, presently hidden away.

Hope had never known what her grandfather looked like, only the stories of how he'd made a deal with the Devil – _The Hollow_. A deal which would cost him his life and shame his family for decades. Richard Xavier Dumas was the reason her mother grew up an orphan. His choices were made out of greed, unearthing The Hollow's bones, protected by The Labonairs and raising an army for her.

Hope tried to put her thoughts to rest and answered Mary.

"Mystic Falls," she replied, after all, it was half true.

"Eat, I'll get some blankets. My husband is due home soon, and he'll have the final say."

Hope looked at her friends seated at the table, the steam rising from her own bowl. She missed family dinners, her protective brother Marcel, Freya and Keelin, and Kol and Davina seated together. Hope wondered whether Marcel's vow to protect children existed: he had saved Hayley, a child forgotten in the destruction of Richard's greed, but was this even his opinion in 1942?

Her worries were interrupted by the front door banging and the man in her mind, the man responsible for so much pain and grief, who was rejected by the Crescent pack, at his time of judgement, entered, scars from recent warfare scattered his muscled body but his eyes remained full of love for his wife, that Hope could not believe he was the same man from her mother's stories.

"Gumbo, my favourite!"

Richard Dumas paused, curious to find three starving teenagers digging into his favourite meal.

* * *

"Is it true you're still waiting for _her_?" Brynne asked jealous of Rebekah and Marcel's love affair.

Thierry and Diego had vanished, leaving the two figures standing together out of the rain.

"I loved her," Marcel admitted, Rebekah's smile still took his breath away.

"Like you loved me?" Brynne sounded hurt and betrayed, she turned away from him.

"It was a different time, a different era. You, my dear, are one of a kind, my clever little witch."

Marcel caressed her cheek, encouraging her to come back to him.

"Little?" Brynne cocked her head to the side, as Marcel kissed her cheek with sweet promises.

"I'd be lost without you, is that what you need to hear? It is with you on my side, I have gained power, keeping the witches and werewolves in line." Marcel kissed her. "Without you, I'd have nothing - no kingdom, no future, no one to believe in me."

Brynne shook her head, "Not true, you'd still have Thierry and Diego."

Marcel gave her a look, pushing her against the compound wall.

"But I only want to kiss you." He smiled, kissing her neck, and unbuttoning her dress.

Brynne smirked into his ear, "Why Mr Gerard, I do believe you're forgetting yourself, you are, after all, a gentleman? Let me pay Kol's companions a visit, see what they're really capable of." She pushed him gently in the chest, cupping his cheek in her hand, "please?"

"They are only children, by the sounds of it, harmless children."

Marcel stole two languid kisses from her before resting his forehead against hers.

"All witches must learn to control their magic; these children will need to express themselves."

His thumb parted her lips, and he whispered, "Well, Kol will have to teach them how to behave, or he will pay the consequence." Marcel swept Brynne's black wavy curls from her eyes.

"Would you really kill a Mikaelson?" she queried.

Marcel pulled her close to his body, his breath short in his lungs.

"If the time came, I would gladly kill a Mikaelson, if only to inflict the pain that family brought me."

Brynne welcomed his promise, after Rebekah Mikaelson subjected her friend Genevieve to typhoid in 1919, leaving them both to die, with the secret of summoning Mikael to New Orleans to kill Klaus. Kol, though he remained the black sheep in the family, was still a danger to their newly built, functioning city, and wherever Klaus was hiding, Kol was the key to finding out.

All she needed was to lure one of his companions to her shop, and the rest would fall into place.

* * *

After something to eat and a bath, using boiled water from the stove, Hope retired to the couch in front of the fire, listening to the rain ease. It was strange to think a day had passed – it felt like they had been stuck in 1942 for a decade. She wondered how worried everyone was, and if her Aunties would ever forgive her for casting the spell in the first place. Hope had scoured her grimoire as if she'd missed an important footnote, but nothing. _It was irreversible._

Hope scratched a mosquito bite on her wrist and noticed a silver bracelet engraved with _Bitchy_ _Lizzie_ on it. Confused by how it got there, she looked around the room for Lizzie, but she must have retired early. Hope flicked the pages forward reading about magical objects and their uses – _maybe her Aunties had sent her a key to get home? A loophole, that's what she needed._

At the sound of the couch deflating, Hope tore her gaze from the colourful page, and met Josie's apologetic eyes. Her brown hair was wet and still steaming from her bath. Mary had traded their clothes in for her husband's spare shirts, which acted like the perfect pair of pjs. Hope noticed Josie's fingers were wrapped around a necklace which had not been there before.

"I'm sorry about befriending Landon, I know that me being with him hurt you and I'm sorry for causing you pain. It was not my intention," Josie admitted, worried.

"You weren't yourself," Hope dismissed Josie's apology, she'd already forgiven her.

Josie took a deep breath, looking down at her necklace.

"I know now, I had a part of my soul missing," she whispered.

Hope bit her lip, smiling at Josie's confession, she didn't need her to explain.

She reached for Josie's hand, "I felt the same," she smiled.

* * *

Lizzie wanted what Hope and Josie had, that closeness, she didn't want to feel this worm hole of loneliness. Why couldn't she find someone to love her, was she _unlovable_? What was wrong with her? She always said the wrong thing and picked boys with emotional baggage – like Rafael. Was she too high maintenance? Was it her mental state they ran from?

She was sick of seeing it in their eyes, a fear of what life would be like with her on their arm.

She had tried to shed the image of a broken girl; someone whose days were polar opposites. She felt like Elsa, hidden behind closed doors, parents frightened by her power. But it was all in head, the loneliness, the jealousy, the depression, therapy had compartmentalised her self-doubt, she was happier because she could see a future, a future where she could be herself.

Sebastian was different, he was not infatuated with her like MG: a boyish love. He was dangerous, mysterious, someone her dad would hate. There was a pull from her heart to his, like they were meant to be, but she did not know why. She could still see him in her mind, his charming smile igniting her heart, his eyes sparkling like Edward's when he saw Bella on their wedding day.

_Elizabeth, _she could still hear his sultry voice in her head.

She was determined to find her prince.

All she needed was some cash, and an open window.

* * *

Mary returned to her empty coffee mug to the sink.

"They just needed a place to stay," she explained to her husband.

Richard sighed, "The bayou is no place for children. There's only a matter of time before Marcel comes for us himself; the North Atlantic pack already have an unfair advantage with those moonlight rings LaMarche created. I don't want to lose this life we've built here, but we deserve better than this swamp life. If only I could wipe that smile from Gerard's face."

"If they set foot here, I'll kill them," Mary put her cup on the dish rack to drain. "And even if you did, what then? He has too many henchmen, one of them would surely rise to power, in his stead. And then, there's the witches. They're planning something, I know it. The bayou is our home, it's all I know. And I'm not leaving our baby behind."

Richard kissed Mary's forehead, looking over at the runaways on the couch with a sad look.

"There's no future here for them, Mary, and one of these days, you're gonna have to let go."

Mary watched her husband leave the table and clutched her cross around her neck.

"Never," Mary pulled the plug, and sent another curious look in their direction.

Hope waited for her to leave before opening her eyes.

Josie was asleep on the rocking chair, legs hanging over the arm rest, she had drifted off to sleep singing _Cornelia Street_ by Taylor Swift. Hope wondered why Lizzie hadn't said goodnight, and unable to sleep, threw off her blanket, running her hands through her wet hair. She had too much on her mind obviously.

They were stuck here because of her. Kol was missing and they had missed his rendezvous time. Maybe he was swapping stories about her dad with Marcel, she knew both men could talk! She glimpsed the moon beneath the billowing curtain and thought of the moonlight rings Francesca Guerra had stolen giving werewolves free will, heightened abilities and power over New Orleans.

There was only one other person who Richard could turn to for help, and that person scared her. She had usurped her once, only seven years old, frozen inside her own subconscious; taken from her parents and unable to stop _The Hollow_ from controlling her actions and creating an army of darkness. The only way to stop it had been her father and uncle's sacrifice.

Hope rolled onto her side to keep warm, begging herself to get some sleep.

_She witnessed Klaus' sacrifice… Her mother's body burning… Elijah's promise over milkshakes… Davina and Kol dancing at Keelin and Freya's wedding…Marcel telling her to close her eyes and sing…_

* * *

Marcel clapped his hand on Kol's shoulder, keeping him by his side, as they watched the lights in the cabin fade. Rain had eased, leaving Kol's shirt damp, but his worries remained. He had been foolish to trust Marcel's word – leading his enemy to the bayou where Hope, Josie and Lizzie had taken refuge. Kol watched with continuous unrest as Marcel's henchmen surrounded them.

"Running with the witches I believed, but the werewolves? That surprised me."

Kol made to interrupt, scratching his stubble, attempting to remain indifferent.

"1925." Marcel recited, "I murdered the Guerra pack in punishment for helping the witches."

"Wolves should be shown their place," Diego snarled, raising his torch.

Later changed their name to Correa, Kol thought, to protect their legacies.

"I often send hunting parties to disperse the Alphas. I can't let _anyone_ contest my reign, Kol. There are always consequences, you should know that by now. Klaus Mikaelson raised me in his image."

Kol watched, unable to intervene, as wolves were murdered before his eyes. He felt sick, thinking of Hayley and Hope, and the danger Hope now faced because of him. He needed to warn them, he needed them to run. Kol reacted in time to escape the bite of a huge grey wolf. Marcel withdrew, dragging Kol with him. Kol caught sight of a woman in the cottage door, firing into the darkness, her cottage engulfed by flames.

* * *

Lizzie spotted Damon Salvatore's camaro outside Bourbon street and an idea hit her. She still remembered how to hot wire the car like Alaric had taught her, and it would take less time to drive than to stop at every station. She wondered whether this would ruin their present time, but then she heard Damon's voice, and she needed to get out of New Orleans as fast as she could –

_Elizabeth… _Sebastian was waiting.

Maybe it was a stupid idea, but it wasn't like Hope or Josie would miss her, they had each other, and she only had Sebastian. Kol had already broken his promise. Lizzie pulled at the door frustrated Damon had a conscious in 1942. _Trust! _Pouting, Lizzie pulled a bobby-pin from her hair and picked the lock. She sat in the driver's seat, and closed her eyes, resting for a minute.

She did her hair in the mirror aware she resembled nothing of the 1940s aesthetic, her braces had fallen off her shoulders, and her shoes kicked beneath her chair. She wished Damon Salvatore would hurry up, she didn't have all day. She yawned, when had the sun set? She hadn't even noticed. She adjusted the side mirror, seeing Lexi walking away from a frustrated Damon.

She wondered where Lexi was going but had no time to reflect. Damon had noticed the exhaust running. He opened the passenger door. Lizzie greeted him with a smile, "Hey loser, get in we're going shopping. Kidding, I have a man to find, but seriously, you better not still be in love with Katherine Pierce, I never understood the appeal. Besides you can do better-"

Damon eyed the broken wires beneath the wheel, took in Lizzie's pantsuit, and looked back over his shoulder, as if something behind him might explain his current predicament. Lizzie pulled away from the curb, eyeing Damon's reluctance, and rolled her eyes in reply of his uncertainty.

"Did Lexi put you up to this? Because I don't need a companion, I prefer to ride solo."

Somewhere between realizing Lizzie hadn't stopped the car, and seeing a policeman staring a him oddly, Damon decided to sit, pulling the car door shut.

Lizzie rolled her eyes.

"Trust me, I am not _that _kind of girl. I just want to put New Orleans behind me."

"Look, Orphan Annie, I'm not a good guy, I'm dangerous."

Damon's pupils expanded and dilated, as if to prove his point.

"_Leave, before I turn you into my own personal blood bag."_

Lizzie was unable to keep a straight face, laughter cascading from her mouth.

"I'd like to see you try," she snorted, being a witch had its advantages.

Damon's fangs appeared and he lunged into her personal space. Lizzie grabbed his face, "Desisto," she said, lazily. One hand steered, the other drained the magic from his body. She sighed, as Damon's vampire body slumped in his seat paralysed, but still breathing. This was not how she remembered her beloved Uncle, but _this_ Damon believed he was the bad brother; selfish, not human, a monster.

Lizzie flicked on the radio, eager to start a new life, as "Moonlight Cocktail" by Glen Miller played. She glanced up at the crescent moon, reminding her of Josie and Hope, waking up to find her gone, worried sick, maybe. She had not left a note, and she had no change to make a call. She looked back at the road, squinting at what looked like a woman standing unperturbed in the middle of the road.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Lizzie slammed on the breaks, sending Damon's unconscious head into the dash. "Sorry, no, why am I apologizing? This is all your fault!" Lizzie could hear her parents in her head when she stepped out of the car, her baby's headlights shining through the crisp night air. Damon still very much unconscious and no help whatsoever in the front seat with a broken nose.

She walked over to the stranger, recognising her at once –

"Brynne Deveraux?" _Celeste Dubois, what did she want?_

"I warned you not to do magic in New Orleans."

Lizzie crossed her arms, "I didn't," she lied.

Brynne's cunning smile unsettled Lizzie, however she was distracted by more figures emerging from the fog. Lizzie expected vampires, but all were women, different ages and wearing stern expressions. Brynne introduced them one by one, giving Lizzie the impression, they were somewhat special.

"Lenore and Sheila Bennett, Nandi LaMarche, Bastianna Natale, Gaia Sinclair, Amelia La Fleur, Madeleine Grioux, Agnes Rillieux, and Josephine LaRue, meet…?" Brynne indicated for Lizzie's name.

Lizzie sighed, it didn't seem like she could escape this parade of bitches, so she held out her hand.

"Livy, short for, what's the catch?"

"The catch is, Miss Parker, you just found a loophole, which makes you our guest," Josephine smiled. She opened the car door where Damon massaged his eyes, touching his blood clotted nostril, with a groan. Josephine touched his shoulder, "Leave New Orleans and forget all that you have seen here."

Damon drove away, leaving Lizzie stranded again in his wake.

"I thought you said you weren't allowed to do magic?" she pressed.

"In the French Quarter, no. But here we are outside the border, do keep up."

Confused, but refusing to stay on a deserted road, Lizzie realised she was still barefoot as her shoes were in Damon's car.

"Oh, fuck me!" she swore, much to the surprise of new friends.

* * *

Hope, Josie and Mary spent the good part of an hour doing their best to save the cottage, without magic – due to Marcel's rules. Hope gathered this was not the first time, as Mary filled buckets with water with such vigour that it impressed both Hope and Josie. Richard returned with a heavy heart, the losses in his pack felt by all, dead wolves scattered the bayou.

His patience lost, and revenge motivated by fear of losing all he loved.

For the first time, Hope understood why Richard chose _The Hollow_, and she could not blame him.

_He was desperate for change._

Marcel's actions had angered her, his reign terrorised her people, and it was their eradication that led to The Hollow's first resurrection. There was something else nagging her mind: Lizzie was nowhere in sight, not a trace. Josie had raided the smouldering cottage, frantic for her sister's body. Hope realized had likely returned for the one person she thought cared about her, Sebastian.

"But he's dead?! Why would she choose him over her own family?"

Hope knew why, "She loves him, and people do crazy things for love."

Josie wiped her fearful tears from her face, angered by Lizzie's selfish adventure fuelled by love.

Hope looked over at Mary hugging her husband and watched as he kissed her forehead, lowering her arms, with as much strength as he could muster, before a sharp whistle rounded up what was left of his pack. Twelve of so wolves, that was all. They turned, howling through the night sky with blood on their paws. Mary's eyes wandered over the dead, haunted and alone. It was Hope who picked up the last smouldering torch, blew on the flames, which ignited, and set fire to their pelts.

Mary gripped her cross in her palm, as Josie put aside her anger, and held the old woman's hand. Both women, separated by time, envious of Hope Mikaelson.

* * *

Kol woke up with a splitting headache, at some point between escaping the bayou and returning to the compound, someone had snapped his neck. Kol opened his groggy eyes to see he was beneath the compound in what Klaus had vindictively named 'The Garden' – a place of punishment and peace. He tried to move his arms, fastened by chains, his body behind freshly laid bricks.

"What is this?" Kol demanded of Thierry, who smirked, slapping cement onto each brick.

Marcel descended the steps into the basement, one at a time, his explanation drawn out.

"Did Thierry not explain? This is your new room? See, this is where I keep vampires I don't trust, and since you're immortal, well, I prefer you in a state of decimation where I can bleed you dry of information until you've outlived all usefulness, pardon the pun. When that day comes, I'll let Thierry finish his wall, and you'll be alone with your thoughts. Bit like your coffin, but this way there's no escape."

Kol frowned, hatred burning in his dead veins.

"What information?" he hissed.

Marcel shrugged, walking towards him, hands in his suit pockets. "Where's Klaus?"

"Last I heard, Klaus was traipsing around Europe, Germany, 1933."

Marcel smiled, "See, wasn't that easy. Now, don't you worry about your companions, Brynne will see to them." Marcel grinned when Kol's anxieties forced him to lash out behind his tomb. "Don't worry, they haven't broken any of my rules yet, but when they do…" Marcel laughed, running his finger across his throat in a threatening manner, making Kol scream for his release.

Kol remembered something of value in his jacket.

"I've something to guarantee your longevity in New Orleans, and I'll bring you Klaus."

Marcel stopped in his tracks, suspicious but listening.

"It's in my jacket, if you'll be so kind."

Marcel's fingers closed around the diamond in Kol's pocket, rendering him breathless.

"Dowager Fauline's paragon diamond, worth more than one hundred carats. But I took this on the night of your incarceration, how did you get it?" Marcel twirled the diamond in his fingers.

Kol shrugged, "Your witch was selling it for half its price. Maybe she's not as loyal to you as you thought? Do we have a deal?" he pressed, waiting for Marcel's agreement.

Marcel frowned, his smugness diminishing in his eye.

"I'll consider it. Goodnight, Mr Mikaelson."

**A/N: So, thoughts? Hope you enjoyed the twists, had fun writing it. Stay tuned for chapter 4! x**


	4. The Nine Covens

**Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowed and nurtured. A/N: I'm pulling canon facts and playing with the timeline, mostly AU. Let's see if the team can get home (to the present?) before Hell erupts? x**

**YOUNGBLOOD**

**iv **

_I think true love _

_is when two people _

_make each other love_

_themselves more_

_\- faraway_

Kol can hear the USO event through the garden walls, so much for his deal with two-faced Marcel. Now he had nothing, and Marcel had his paragon diamond; his bargaining chip, forgotten. He was trapped, with no way of escape. He could hear saxophones, drums and trumpets in the parade, and wondered how many musicians had answered Uncle Sam's call?

Maybe they were all vampires, explained a lot, he thought. Like Stefan Salvatore, newly turned, unable to control their blood lust. World War II was not an excuse for a bloodbath, although the history books stated it as one: how many supernatural creatures were involved? Or someone else fed on the chaos of war, someone who could be bidding her time here in 1942.

This was a troublesome thought that would not budge from his restless mind. New Orleans was a hot spot for powerless witches, desperate wolves rebelling against Marcel's reign, and in-fighting? And Hope was amongst it all, making his anxieties grow. He didn't want her to face this old threat alone. His yells for Marcel to reconsider were drowned by jazz music, he had no choice but to listen.

* * *

"Hope, I don't think I can do this?" Josie whispered; fear etched across her face.

Hope took Josie's hands in hers, squeezing them to ease both their anxieties.

"Josie, I'm not going to leave you, but we need to get Marcel's attention."

Josie looked out at the soldiers waiting for the entertainment to serenade them from the stage. Josie knew of only one '40s song which popped into her head, as she practiced her dance, wearing a diamond studded leotard, complete with a black top hat and tails.

_(I got spurs) that jingle, jangle, jingle_

_As I go ridin' merrily along - Kay Kyser_

"I wish Lizzie was here," she curled her hair behind her ear. "It feels weird without her."

Hope nodded, "Same," she held up Lizzie's bracelet, which had no effect, since she was not the intended owner. It was however still full of magic, she just had to figure out how to use it. Hope sent Josie a smile, and a double thumbs up for luck, as the band took the stage. The Andrew sisters gave Josie an encouraging smile and pinched their cheeks.

Marcel grabbed the microphone welcoming everyone to the show. He always had a way with speeches, much like her dad, Hope thought. It was strange to be standing in his presence without him acknowledging her. She wondered what he had done with Kol, he didn't seem to be in the crowd, which meant negotiations had gone sour, and he was either dead, or captive somewhere.

"WELCOME to the biggest, jazziest United States Officers show ever, do stay a while, take the edge off at our burlesque bars; drink at our night clubs; and dance at our masquerade ball; on offer to you 'til dawn, and if you get peckish, we have fifty restaurants open for your convenience. Now, without further ado, Glen Miller's band, with my favourite song 'Don't sit under the Apple tree…'

Hope turned her back as Marcel skipped down the steps, his charming smile a permanent factor of his personality – this Marcel was all confidence and no worries. This was his city, and everyone knew it. He was King, and when he was happy, everyone was happy. Hope watched Josie move towards the microphone, the fourth Andrews' sister. Her song was a hit with the crowd, and Josie's confidence soon shone, her smile matching that of Marcel's.

"Who is that?" Marcel asked, leaning against a pillar.

Hope saw Thierry and Diego shrug their shoulders.

"Good singer?" Diego noted, his eyes on the Burlesque dances across the road.

"Good, she can belt a tune that would put Ella to shame."

"Why don't you invite her to the compound for an encore?" Thierry winked.

Marcel grinned, clapping his hands together. "You're absolutely right."

Hope remembered Marcel's elusive parties where he invited tourists home for dinner. She hurried to greet Josie after the song to warn her of Marcel's intentions. Josie collected a red feather bower with shaking fingers, getting the nod from Mr Miller, they had minutes until the next song. That didn't leave them much time to figure out a plan.

"He's going to _what_ me? Over his dead body."

"You can't change the future, past, present…" Hope reminded Josie.

"Well, he better keep his distance."

"You just have to stall him, enough for me to save Kol from the garden…"

"And if he bites me?" Josie hissed, worry in her eyes.

"Don't let him," Hope looked around the stage, counting their exits.

Josie shook her limbs, trying to focus, and relax her nerves.

"How are you so calm?" she asked, "I'm about to go on a date with your uncle, and you're just, well, you?" Josie pointed to Hope's stance. Hope didn't have the heart to say her boiled egg was climbing up her throat, and the warm milk she'd drunk with it, was turning her stomach.

"I'll distract _Crabbe and Goyle_, and you just need to knock out Marcel, can I trust you?"

"Of course, who do you think I am? Alyssa Chang?"

Hope grabbed a feathered masquerade mask from the costume box and followed at a safe distance. Marcel appeared by Josie's side with flattery and promises; invited her into the compound to oblige her with chocolates and beignets; before charming her onto the dance floor – no wonder Rebekah fell in love with him: she was a hopeless romantic, like Josie, Hope thought.

Distracting Thierry and Diego had been easy, she caught them with a howl, without transforming. Met them in the shadows, knocked them both out with a high kick to the head, and dragged them into the store cupboard, where she locked the door. It was odd seeing the compound so empty, without any of the Mikaelson's belongings, nor her dad's influence. She missed his artworks, and her mother's photographs scattered around the place.

Catching a glimpse of herself in a gold-studded mirror, Hope rubbed grease from her cheek. She looked like the Artful Dodger. She'd have to lose her cardigan and hat and find something that made her fit in more. She flung herself up the stairs to her room, Rebekah's room, and opened the closest, half expecting there to be nothing inside. Rebekah was presently, daggered in her coffin.

"Bingo," Hope breathed.

She found Rebekah's trinkets inside a dusty shoebox; her 1914 red ballgown dress with gold bodice lay beneath parchment paper; on the next hanger was her red velvet medieval dress with scorch marks on the hem. Lastly, there was a black sequined dress, which would do nicely. The closet was drenched in cobwebs and spiders, which she stifled a scream over, and stumbled into a chest of drawers, knocking over a photograph of the Mikaelsons standing in Rousseau's.

Another pang of guilt consumed her, as she stared at her dad's carefree grin amongst his siblings. She was swept into self-doubt, and depression, missing her family. Hope threw her clothes into the back of the wardrobe, and stepped into the dress, zipping up the sides. Before shaking it down over her hips, and letting the heavy material fall to the floorboards. _Much better_, she sighed.

Hope pried open the photo frame and tucked the photo beneath her bra strap. She had lost all her belongings in the fire, and the rest, Alaric had burnt at her request. Starting over had been a good idea at the time. Hearing footsteps and voices, Hope crept downstairs, raising her masquerade mask, invisible to Marcel's guests, and hurried to the Garden.

* * *

Josephine LaRue stopped them, indicating they hold hands, standing some distance from the French Quarter. The cold night air gave Lizzie chills, but she stood, barefoot, ready to participate in this cult, should it help propel time forwards. Bats cast shadows across the moon, as Brynne Deveraux began the chant, the witches mimicking her words and actions – the spell would remove Marcel's trace on them, allowing them to perform magic without fear of being caught.

"It is done," Brynne relaxed her shoulders and broke the circle.

"One less thing to worry about," LaMarche pulled out a cigarette, offering them one.

"Grioux, what in God's name are you doing?" Agnes' annoyed tone bit through the darkness.

Sinclair lit a ball in her palm, shining the light around the circle, where Grioux now sat in the grass.

"Just a little something to protect us from harm," she whispered, sprinkling dirt in the shape of what Lizzie thought looked like a turtle. "Livy, hand me that rose, but mind you don't-"

Lizzie winced, her finger had struck its thorns, and she dropped the rose into Grioux's outstretched hand, sucking her finger, with a sting of annoyance. The witch gave her an apologetic smile, and placed the rose adjacent over the circle, she closed her eyes, peaceful and calm, and muttered a spell Lizzie could not hear nor decipher, seeing her lips move at a remarkable pace.

"We should return, it is almost eight, and we must not be late for the Faction meeting." LaRue said.

Sheila Bennett gave Lizzie a grateful smile, and Lizzie hurried to catch up. Grams was a stoic woman and had always been the subject of many discussions between her mum and Bonnie, whenever Lizzie and Josie came home for the holidays. Her life story was a mystery, and Lizzie knew little of her history in New Orleans, in fact, she had no idea Grams even had a sister, but she supposed, she had to have, for Bonnie was an only child, and Lucy Bennett was her cousin.

Ahead of them, Lizzie overheard Lenore Bennett discussing her doubts over a string of missing witches all who had drowned or killed themselves in mysterious ways. She had been investigating their deaths for the past ten years, and they all originated in New Orleans. She had, Lizzie gathered, guessed, the true nature of Celeste Dubois. LaRue seemed to feel the tension between her followers playing together only because she bid them to.

"We must remain vigilant. I hear you, Lenore, but tonight we focus on our city, and our freedom." LaRue began the descent into the French Quarter, Lizzie impressed with her choice of heels.

Bastiana, Sinclair and Agnes followed, with LaMarche, and Grioux arm in arm.

Brynne bumped into Sheila and Lizzie, causing Sheila to fall to the ground with an 'oomph'.

"What is your problem?" Lizzie yelled, ready for a little payback.

Sheila took Lizzie's hand, as Lenore and Grioux returned, confused by the interruption.

"What did you do, Brynne?" Grioux shoved Brynne in the chest.

Lizzie was impressed by the amount of ground Brynne lost before she answered.

"My problem is The Bennetts, sticking their noses in my affairs," she hissed.

"Your affair with Marcel Gerard, does not interest me," Sheila retorted.

"_Business affairs_, were you always this dim-witted?" Brynne snapped.

Actual flames could have burst from Sheila's eyes, the way the youngest witch glared at her.

Sheila Bennett clasped her hand around Brynne's arm and set her sleeve alight.

"What did you call me?" she hissed, as Lenore grinned, satisfied by her sister's skill.

"Get her off me!" Brynne yelled, struggling to be released but LaRue was out of earshot.

Grioux frowned, "Apologize, then maybe I will."

The smallest of apologies fell from Brynne's mouth, undeserving Lizzie thought, but the night had only begun. Lenore held Sheila's hand, and when Brynne and Grioux left, she hissed, "Go, New Orleans is not safe. I'd send you too Livy if it weren't for you being the 'miracle child'. I have a bad feeling, and I'm always right about those. I want you safe, and I want you alive."

Sheila gaped at her sister, and at Lizzie's mirrored expression. "I can't leave. Not now?"

Lizzie felt the pain and anguish on Sheila's expression, and the sacrifice in Lenore's, words blurted from her mouth, "Go to Mystic Falls, make a life there, befriend the Salvatores, everything will be okay," Lizzie hugged Sheila tight, as if she were Josie, missing her sister more. "I've seen it."

Sheila accepted her fate, with a weary nod of her head, "Be careful," she whispered.

"Goodbye," Lizzie whispered, as Lenore hugged Sheila, and bid her farewell.

* * *

"You can sing, you can dance? Is there anything you can't do, Miss Parker?"

"Magic," Josie answered with a wry smile.

Marcel gave her an odd, yet compelling look. "Do explain?"

Josie laughed, "Why, not in its physical sense, Mr Gerard, magic doesn't exist, but in its _ethereal_. You see, what with this façade, I mean, if I were to believe you really were prince charming, swept me off my feet, provided me dinner and the perfect night, of course I would have no excuse but to swoon, and conclude it was a magical night, but you have other intentions, I'm sure?" she rambled.

Marcel's smile faltered and Josie knew she'd caught him in a lie.

"You are one smart lady, Miss Parker. How shall I make it up to you?"

Josie smiled, thinking, as they danced on the spot.

"A favour, one I shall collect when the time is right," she whispered.

Marcel Gerard spun her away and then back into his arms.

"And what shall we seal our deal with?" Marcel's eyes twinkled. "A kiss?"

Josie's stomach backflipped, as did her confidence, returning her legs to jelly. She stumbled, stepping on Marcel's toes. He picked her up so as not to embarrass herself and set her back on her feet with a kind smile, taking no notice of her flustered expression.

"I have not, in my lifetime, met anyone as wonderful as you," he chuckled.

Josie curtseyed like the idiot she was, gave him a beguiling smile, and bid him goodnight.

"I must go, it's almost midnight," she blurted.

She only had to leave her glass slipper, and she would indeed, be living a fairy-tale.

* * *

LaRue introduced Lizzie to the Priest standing by a long table which Lizzie thought looked displaced in the middle of a fancy church. He was much younger than she expected, wearing a curious expression which only made her self-conscious of her intended purpose. What could a bipolar 16-year-old witch offer the Nine Covens? Apart from a supposed loophole?

"Miss Parker, this is Father Dominic, he resides in St Anne's, and remains our most trusted ally."

Lizzie curtsied, awkwardly. LaRue beckoned her to take a seat. She sat, taking in dozens of wooden pews. She had not been in a church before, and it made her nervous. She was not religious, attended a school for supernatural creatures, and had entered the world through a vampire pregnancy. She doubted her miracle birth would be accepted by a bunch of conservative Christians.

Her companions took their seats, but one remained vacant.

Even without Sheila's presence, nine coven witches remained.

Lizzie waited for the rest of the Faction to arrive. One from each supernatural linage – LaRue represented the witches; Father Dominic represented the humans, and she assumed, Marcel and Richard Dumas represented the vampires and werewolves.

"Which coven did you say you were from again?" Father Dominic asked, leaning over.

Lizzie frowned, "Gemini," a collective gasp became audible.

Lizzie twiddled her thumbs, glued to her chair and wishing she had left with Sheila.

"Otherwise known as the cursed coven," she explained. "The coven leader is chosen through a barbaric ritual where twins merge; the strongest absorbs the latter. They can only siphon magic."

Lizzie nodded, that was her family tragedy.

Amelia La Fleur interrupted, "Must be hard, not having your own magic? I would go mad."

LaRue eyed the colourful glass-stained windows, lost in thought.

"It's not so bad when it is all you've known," Lizzie said.

Agnes took out her tarot cards, placing three on the table in a foreboding sort of way.

"_The Star. The Hanged man. The Devil_," she glared at Lizzie. "She will bring death to us all."

Grioux rolled her spectacled eyes, "Oh, put them away Agnes, they're so depressing."

Sinclair laughed, "They have to be, or the tourists wouldn't love them."

Lenore Bennett stared at the cards, pulling them towards her, "_Miracles. Self-sacrifice. Envy_."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't be trusted? I'm the product of sin?" Lizzie slouched in her chair.

Brynne Deveraux finished her cigarette. "At this rate, we'll miss Marcel's party altogether."

LaRue indicated for Father Dominic to collect a box to put onto the table.

"As requested," he said, opening the flaps to reveal Burlesque costumes of all colours and styles.

LaRue chose to stand, empowering the room, whilst Agnes packed away her cards.

"Some of you may be wondering what this has to do with our peace treaty… You can see we have two empty seats at our table. Marcel believes he has won the war, that we will not rise against him, but he does not know of our sacrifices; he does not know of our promise to the wolves. We need them, as they need us, but the vampires, those vehement creatures deserve to disappear into the shadows where they will cower until God claims them."

LaRue glanced at Brynne, "Deveraux has informed me, Kol Mikaelson is here, Gerard imprisoned him in The Garden, and wants information. Some of you may remember, Klaus Mikaelson, his elder brother. It's been twenty years since he was run out of New Orleans; a lover of the arts, music, New Orleans' culture. Kol studied _Kemiya _via Arabia, in 1914, he trained our witches to perform dark magic at his bequest; making dark objects with the intention to use them against his brother. Some of these objects were smuggled from his clutches. They are before you, the _Rosary of Madness_; curses anyone who touches it, insane; the _Bracelet of Obedience_; as the name implies; these Handcuffs will render the wearer non-magical; _the Devil's star_, causes one thousand cuts."

Sinclair stared at the objects, "Weapons, but why? If they could be used against him, would he risk it?" She turned her head back to LaRue, her short hair bouncing upon her shoulders.

"It is renown Klaus punishes his siblings by daggering them when they displease him, sometimes for centuries. When he discovered Kol had been plotting against him, (Klaus and Marcel were inseparable once) he used their sister Rebekah to betray him, and Kol was left in a coffin until Klaus saw fit to release him. Kol may be vermin, like the rest of his kind, but he could be the key to our freedom. Brynne, you shall free him, gather his trust; he holds witches in high esteem. The rest of us will infiltrate Marcel's compound and demand our freedom. The werewolves, should they honour our agreement shall meet us there, so," LaRue glanced at the box. "Choose your outfit."

Brynne snagged a feather boa, teasing Sinclair's choice of white cotton gloves.

"Stylish, but simple, no need to _flaunt _oneself," Sinclair quipped of her fellow witch.

Brynne cackled, "Poor doll. No admirers? Mr Gerard and I are well acquainted bedfellows."

LaMarche had no restraint, "For now, Mr Gerard will never love again. You are just his plaything."

Brynne glared at LaMarche, "Just because he broke your heart, Nandi. He won't break mine."

Lizzie pulled on her new shoes which were oddly comfortable. It was the brown leather band on her wrist that made her squeak. _Why was she wearing Hope's Gigolo watch? _Out of sheer curiosity, she brushed her thumb across the glass to decipher the time, and the year: 1942. It seemed she really was in Hell with no prince charming to rescue her. She would have to save herself, like always.

After they had pulled on their disguises, the conversation about Kol carried on.

Bastiana Claire who Lizzie had forgotten was still in the room, spoke up.

"Let's not forget the Mikaelsons trapped two of our witches in Dowager Fauline's cottage until they grew insane," Bastiana explained, "One, Mary-Alice was my little sister. Back then there were no limits on magic, but the practice was forbidden. Most of us witches, performed in secret, thus disguising our magic through historical objects was an inviting idea. I have since learnt not to trust a Mikaelson, so, I say to you all, be careful, and know how to defend yourself, magic or not."

Bastiana picked up the Rosary beads, and gave LaRue a courteous nod, before resuming her seat.

Sinclair agreed, "Witches performing dark magic were shunned by their covens, a ritual still performed, should the Ancestors will it; a humiliation I wish upon nobody."

Agnes rose from the table, receiving a nod from LaRue.

"Vampires shall be eradicated, righting the natural order," she began. "But heed my words, LaRue, witches will be wary of siphoners, the Devil's advocate, she will cause our downfall."

Lizzie received a curious look from her companions, apparently, she had a say.

"What if I told you, Kol's the reason I-we came here? He's absolving his sins, wanted to tell you he's sorry, _really_ sorry, it was not his intention, but his punishment, enforced by his psychopath brother, Klaus," Lizzie remembered, pulling the material from an old book Josie had read one summer.

Her confession was interrupted by a stranger approaching, and Lizzie thanked God for his timing.

The table grew quiet, not even a whisper escaped their lips. The man was burly, with thick hair and worn eyes, he had a wildness in him as he gestured to LaMarche, with a low growl in his voice.

"Do you get satisfaction seeing my kind slaughtered, LaMarche? The Crescents are done with you witches, giving moonlight rings to the North Atlantic pack… tell me LaRue, whatever you promised, they won't be loyal to their masters, mark my words. _You will regret this_."

"Oh, sit down, Dumas," LaMarche snapped. "Marcel's hunt was not my doing!"

"No, but the rings were," Richard frowned. "And that betrayal will not be forgotten."

LaMarche rose from her seat, "I promised them freedom from Marcel's reign, as I promised you."

Richard Dumas gestured at her with his bloodied hands, "There's another way, and you know it."

A hushed whisper broke around the table, and Lizzie glanced at Father Dominic praying.

"Dark magic is not part of our repertoire, Dumas, as you know." LaRue warned.

"Maybe it should be." Dumas turned on his heel.

Twelve werewolves followed, the door banging after each exit.

"Well, that was dramatic," Grioux uttered, pushing back her chair.

Some of the witches exchanged worried looks, which Lizzie noticed.

"Grioux, Sinclair, follow him, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. As for the rest of us, Parker, you are our secret weapon, and you hold our lives in your hands, our miracle child." LaRue ended the meeting, adding what Lizzie thought to be a dead raven headpiece to her hair.

Lizzie missed Josie and Hope, she prayed they were safe and not about to lead a rebellion of witches.

* * *

Kol lifted his head to hear footsteps belonging to Brynne Deveraux. Her presence intrigued him when she sauntered over brandishing a key to his handcuffs.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked.

Brynne unlocked each handcuff, "Is it true, is Klaus alive?"

Kol shook the dirt which had settled in his hair.

"He's in Spain, underground, bidding his time." he assumed climbing from the rubble.

"Ensure he never returns. New Orleans is run by a tyrant, it is not safe."

"I thought you two were in love?" he queried, a smirk unfolding.

"My heart belongs to another," Brynne answered, helping Kol up the steps.

"I'd ask who, but I don't care. And my companions?"

"Waiting for you upstairs, hurry!"

Kol flew up the stairs, eager to reunite with Hope and Josie, as Brynne had promised.

"Oh, I have one, small favour," Brynne fingered a bracelet on her wrist. "I need your strength, your speed and your bloodlust. Tonight, we kill Marcel, and free New Orleans."

Kol's happiness was sucked from him, as he remained a prisoner still, tied to Brynne's will.

"How did you get that?" Kol whispered, eyes glued to the weapon on her wrist.

"LaRue," Brynne smiled. "You will see your companions again, when Marcel is dead."

Kol returned to Brynne's side, "Marcel is like family," he murmured.

Brynne nodded, "And family is sacred, or so I thought, once."

Kol smiled, unable to keep his secret to himself, it could be the only thing that released him.

"Elijah loved you, and he paid the price, _Celeste. _You can fool Marcel, but I know who and what you are, and that bracelet only affects my actions, it cannot, and will not, suppress me."

Brynne's eyes narrowed, "You will not dare…" she hissed, showing a flicker of fear.

"Do not underestimate a trickster," Kol murmured.

* * *

Josie escaped Marcel, pulling out her hair pins, and relying on her instincts as she avoided masquerade guests, what were most certainly vampires settling in for the night, and the odd werewolf, she was pleased to run straight into Hope, returning from the Garden. With a small squeal, Josie wrapped her arms around her best friend, squeezing her tight.

"Everything okay?" came Hope's worried reply.

"No, your uncle just asked to kiss me!"

"Well, at least he asked. I'm sorry, I'm not helping. What do you need?"

"A drink would be nice, but, under different circumstances… where's Kol?"

"He's gone. I had to find something to blend in, but when I got to the Garden, he'd been released."

Josie stepped back with a sigh, "Marcel, or Celeste?" she wondered.

Hope noticed a change in atmosphere, something was different, like a storm cloud rolling in. Even Marcel had noticed it, watching with his guests as a line of Burlesque dancers arrived, dressed in an assortment of clothes and hats. Hope looked around for Kol, worried. _Where could he be?_ There were also werewolves; Richard Dumas, watching the occasion with a sour expression.

"I don't like this," Josie grabbed Hope's arm.

Josie recognised a familiar face amongst the Burlesque dancers, "Lizzie?"

Hope looked to the skies, where she saw an unexpected celestial event, a Hybrid Eclipse.

"Josie, I think I know how to send us home," she hissed. "Bonnie Bennett used the Northern Lights to escape the prison world, not once but twice, all we need is a spell."

"But you heard Marcel, we can't do magic, or we die," Josie hissed.

"Siphoning magic isn't breaking the rules, you're using what the earth's already given us. Besides, we'll be restoring the balance by sending ourselves home, resetting the timeline," she explained. "I just have to get my grimoire from Mary's, I stashed it under the couch for safe keeping."

"But the Hollow?" Josie had her doubts, anguish plastered on her face. "And Lizzie?"

Hope sighed, "We don't have much time, it's now, or never, Josie."

* * *

Brynne greeted Marcel with a kiss and a 'surprise' from the French Quarter witches. The USO soldiers roared in approval, throwing their navy hats, as Marcel's vampires melted into the crowd, moving in on innocent victims. Marcel offered martinis and beignets, a sign of hospitality. His charm did not falter, any judgement was barred from view.

"Then I will not delay your surprise, I only wish Thierry and Diego were here to share in my joy."

Hope made a face; his lieutenants were unconscious. She and Josie needed to get Kol and Lizzie and leave, but something was still nagged Hope, something or someone she had not envisioned to see. A spectacled witch argued with Richard Dumas for some time, before disappearing into the crowd – Hope gripped Josie's hand. She could feel a chill in the air… something was coming.

"Good evening, Mr Gerard, I hope I find you well?"

The witches dispersed leaving Lizzie to meet with Marcel, and she shot a poignant glance in Hope's direction. What it meant, Josie and Hope were unsure, but soon to discover, Brynne had uttered one command, "_Kill him." _Kol Mikaelson whooshed into view, shoving Marcel into the brick wall, the two vampires fighting in arm to arm combat.

"It's not Brynne, it's Celeste Dubois," Kol yelled. "And you'll have to stop me."

Brynne removed herself, catching LaRue's eye, as Lizzie ran towards Josie and Hope, desperate to be reunited. "We have to get out of here. They want me to be some miracle child, to end all this. I just can't, Josie, what if they make us merge?" Hope and Josie hugged Lizzie, Hope, afraid for Kol.

Rules be damned, she had to do something, there was little time, and the eclipse was in motion.

Grabbing their hands, she muttered the spell which had created this calamity, pulling magic from the objects: the necklace, the bracelet and the watch, hoping she'd return them to a world unchanged – where she could greet her family and the super squad, again, with all the time in the world, because that was her wish.

She shut the noise out: the screams, the howls, the attacks on innocents…

_Images flashed into her mind, soldiers in trenches knee deep in mud. Stefan Salvatore bandaging the wounded amongst explosions, a red cross on his arm. Nurses using lipstick to prioritise the injured, overwhelmed with lack of resources. Katherine Pierce holding hands with a stranger. A witch summoning a blue spirit, a dead rat encircled by candles. An unconscious man thrown into a van, passing a stationary blue camaro._ _A child's graveside, the bones gone; and headstone cracked._

"Lizzie?" Josie whispered, alarmed.

"Josie?" Lizzie's premonitions or memories were as clear as if they had witnessed them themselves.

The spell waned, and their chance lost. For when Hope opened her eyes, Kol writhed in agony from a werewolf bite. Marcel knew he had been betrayed, and by who, but fear befell him as Dumas howled over Kol's writhing body, with the promise all vampires would succumb to this horrible fate.

"No use fighting it vampire, your days are limited."

"I'm an Original vampire, dumb-ass. We can't be killed, and you can count your blessings."

Kol groaned, rolling onto his side as Hope's tortured expression haunted him.

"I'll just have The Hollow finish you off then," Richard growled, his pack howling in triumph.

Marcel drew his followers back, the soldiers blaming their hallucinations, not on the pack of werewolves they had seen but from their inebriation. Seven coven witches chanted into the night – the same spell Celeste performed on the Crescents in the 1990s, and on Hayley, per Klaus' request.

It seemed to Hope, nobody trusted anyone, and that would be their downfall.

Hope rushed to Kol, providing her wrist: her hybrid blood an instant remedy to werewolf venom.

"What is this?" Richard Dumas pointed, "A wolf and a vampire?"

"He's my family," she explained. "Not all vampires are bad, this war will not absolve your pain."

"My wife took you in, filthy vampire sympathizer," Dumas spat, kicking her aside.

Hope recoiled in shock and pain, hearing Josie and Lizzie's shouts of 'NO!'

Her tribrid eyes grew red with anger, but her slow, calm breaths kept her in control.

Kol smashed his bracelet against the pavers until he could wiggle his hand free, pocketing the bracelet for safe keeping. He checked on Hope, pulling her hair from her face, and comforting her.

"LaMarche! The Hollow is waiting. Once a promise is made, it cannot be undone."

LaMarche revealed a boy, unconscious, with markings on his forehead. A woman screamed in the distance, falling to her knees, her prayers ignored. Next, LaMarche's glowing blue eyes locked on theirs: a blue Hope had seen reflected in her own eyes, when she was seven. Hope, Josie and Lizzie screamed in pain as marks were engraved into their skulls.

"It will soon be over, and you will answer to a higher power."

"There is no higher power than God," Agnes shouted, raising her eyes to the thunder-ridden clouds.

LaMarche looked to the Hybrid eclipse. "Four innocents to resurrect the Hollow."

Kol yelled out, the crowd frozen in a trance, unable to intervene. He tried to go to them, but someone had grabbed him, a stake forced into his chest. Still he fought, sweat dripping from his hands, as he pushed against his attacker, breaking their kneecaps, and forced the stake into the man's white shirt – he looked up to see the Priest's shocked expression.

Shaken, Kol held the bloodied stake in his hand, ready for his next attacker.

Marcel grabbed him, "It's me, I'm going to help you. No kids, will die on my watch."

Marcel handed something to Kol, his paragon diamond, "You can trust me."

Josie, Lizzie and Hope lay paralysed beside the boy, Hope could hear Kol's dead heart pounding. Her eyes swivelled across the stunned witches, werewolves and vampires.

She looked for Marcel Gerard and began to sing…

**A/N: Please review, chapter 5 won't be far away. **


	5. The Hollow

**Disclaimer: not mine, borrowed and nurtured. A/N: Thanks for R&R. Much love. Spent the beginning of this chapter researching Nordic lullabies. The song Hope is singing is **_**The Wolf Song - Vargsången**_** by Jonna Jinton which you can listen to on youtube. **

**YOUNGBLOOD**

**v**

_not all storms_

_come to disrupt_

_your life, some _

_come to clear your_

_path - anonymous_

* * *

Josie lay with tears dripping down her cheeks, between her two best friends, and a nameless child. What would become of them? Acolytes to the darkest monster of them all, who fed on sacrifice and envy. The Hollow was no longer a myth, she was coming, and no one was safe.

"'Close your eyes and sing'," Marcel remembered.

Josie could see Kol's desperate attempts blocked by LaMarche's boundary spell.

Hope's haunting song, a cry for resistance, and pride.

Lizzie's hand fell by Josie's, and Josie wished she could squeeze it in comfort, but her arms were heavy, her body glued to the ground. The spell had paralysed their limbs, but not Hope's spirits.

Thunder and lightning scattered the black clouds, like spotlights on a stage.

Josie let Hope's lullaby guide her, adopting its words on her foreign tongue.

Hope sang to the heavens, her last battle cry, contesting LaMarche's ballad to the Hollow.

Howls echoed in the distance, as if the lullaby reawakened something deep in their souls.

A reminder, Hope was not alone.

Josie felt her voice crack, her song diminishing. It was getting harder to move her lips, a numbing sensation rippled through her body. Hope's song faded, and Lizzie protested with furious eyes. Nandi LaMarche shouted into the storm, and a crack of thunder answered.

Josie shut her eyes, tight, anxious for what was to come.

A gunshot. Screams. Running footsteps.

Josie opened her eyes to see the crowd had recoiled, most had dispersed. Wolves had reformed their lines. Some faithful to The Hollow, crowded around an injured LaMarche, others supported their matriarch, Mary Dumas, who lowered her rifle, face rife with disappointment. Josie felt as if her heart would burst from her body; this was the miracle she had wished for.

"Release them, the Hollow will be your downfall. She is not your ally, Richard. New Orleans needs peace, not another war. Think about what you will be doing to our home, our future."

Richard noticed the bundle of bones in Lenore Bennett's arms, and scoffed.

"You think the bones of my daughter will sway me? The Hollow will bring Andrea back to us, Mary. Join me, on the right side of history."

Lenore unravelled a scarf, laying Andrea's bones in the courtyard, for all to see.

Hushed whispers spread through the crowd.

Then a bloodcurdling scream, as Marcel sank his teeth into LaMarche's neck.

Josie felt her fingers twitch up and down, then she took both Hope and Lizzie's hands in hers.

Lizzie sprung from her spot, touching her head, as if she had only fainted.

Hope had been right; Marcel had not harmed them.

Josie saw tears in Kol's eyes, as the rain bore down on them. She watched the aftermath as if she were separated from her heart, body, and soul.

Marcel wiped LaMarche's blood from his mouth, stepping over the witch, without a second glance.

The crowd was still, LaRue and her coven stared at the loss of LaMarche, with a sadness unmatched by Richard Dumas. He beckoned for his followers to charge Marcel, many launched themselves forwards, but Marcel remained unharmed, his circle of vampires protecting him. Richard Dumas would not back down, not even for his wife, who knelt with Lenore by her child, hands in prayer.

Josie felt Kol's arms around her.

Words failed him, but his gesture was welcomed, and reciprocated. He was their only family in this time, and she had grown fond of him. He hugged Lizzie, whose usual tirade of insults remained hidden, she was sure her sister was still in shock, or perhaps her vocal cords had not been un-paralysed. Kol then hugged his niece, so tight, Josie wondered if Hope could breathe.

"I was so scared it was happening again, that I was minutes away from losing you, all of you."

Hope uttered only one sentiment, "This family sticks together, _always and forever_."

Kol, Josie, and Lizzie nodded, "So let's get out of this hell-hole, together," Lizzie said.

The nameless boy sat up, scared, crying for his mother.

Josie wrapped a protective arm around him, as if he were Pedro.

"It's okay, we'll find your mother," she scanned the crowd for someone who recognised him.

Josie's attention was drawn back to Hope.

Marcel, deaf to the slander, stood in front of them.

Hope hugged him, forgetting herself, and linked her hands across his back, like always.

"Thank you," she whispered against his shoulder. "Thank you, Marcel."

Hope peeled herself away, remembering he was a stranger in this time.

"That song, I learnt it when I was a boy… it was taught to me, by my sire, Klaus Mikaelson."

Diego and Thierry stepped over the bodies of wolves who had failed to escape the compound. Six or seven, Josie could see, remained, Richard was nowhere to be seen. The rebellion had been quashed, but it was far from over. LaMarche lay metres away in a pool of her own blood. The witches congregated around her, hesitant to pay their respects, should they be The Hollow's next victims.

Josie worried about the darkness inside herself, and of her destiny.

_Would she be the witch left on the ground in the rain?_

She hugged the frightened child, and watched Lizzie unafraid of The Hollow, drop beside LaMarche. Her sister sat, processing the events with a furrowed brow, then closed LaMarche's eyes out of respect. This prompted LaRue and Sinclair to say their goodbyes. Others, Agnes, Bastiana, watched with grim expressions, unmoving from the sidelines. Josie wondered what the consequences were for killing a witch, even a witch possessed by The Hollow.

"Vincent Griffith, praise the lord, you are safe."

Josie and Hope exchanged a look of surprise as Vincent's mother wept in her son's hold.

Her son, who would one day become The Regent of New Orleans.

* * *

Mary Dumas returned her daughter's bones to her scarf with care, cautious of the eclipse above.

Lenore Bennett paid her respects to LaMarche, despite their differences.

"You always respect the dead," Caroline ingrained into them, after years of visiting Stefan's grave, reminiscing about his life. It was what got Josie through losing her bio-mum. Reminding herself her parents had also seen death, and somehow survived it, multiple times. Their family had defied the laws of nature, and here they were again, survivors.

Hope gave them a defiant look, Josie was too familiar with, her part in all this was not over yet.

Hope, in her black sequined dress, waved for the crowd's attention.

Josie shivered in the mist, worried for Hope, their martyr, and Lizzie, forced to face her fears. Josie scanned those in the crowd for a flicker of blue, ready to act if need be. Kol stared at the glow of the lanterns hanging from the ivy-covered walls. Hope pointed to the eclipse, raising her voice over the cacophony of thunder, which made the compound reminiscent of fairytales, Josie thought.

"The Hollow is among us. She will raise an army of demons. LaMarche will not be the last. Dumas, grief stricken, and desperate, has lost his way, but please, we can fight this threat, if only we work as a team. Vampires, witches, and wolves, we can make a difference, together. Please join me in making New Orleans are better home; a safe one, for us all."

Hope returned to Josie with a shrug, "This is still my home, I have to protect it."

Kol wrapped an arm around Hope and kissed her forehead.

"That was some Viking speech, Hope Mikaelson."

"Mikaelson? Another Mikaelson?" LaRue entered their circle, flanked by her coven.

"I assume neither of you are who you say you are?" Mary Dumas asked, rifle still in hand.

"You know too much of this evil, it makes me wonder if you have seen it firsthand," Lenore guessed.

"-We're still Gemini twins," Lizzie shrugged.

"-Just not from around here," Josie admitted, speaking half-truths.

"How do we know who we can trust?" Marcel interrupted.

"-and who we can't?" Sinclair interjected.

Hope shrugged, "You can't, you just move forwards."

* * *

The rain did not stop, Josie heard it battering Rebekah's bedroom windows for hours, projecting a dreary mood around the compound, adding to growing fear The Hollow would soon find them. She and Lizzie had stayed for as long as they could during the Faction meeting, leaving only after Hope had told her terrifying tale of possession. The Hollow needed to be fed, it searched for her bones, protected by trusted few.

These bones were indestructible, kept away should they attract her spirit. The plan was to tighten security, to protect its citizens, to help each other. New Orleans was in the middle of two great wars, one human, and supernatural. If New Orleans were to survive both, they were the only key.

Lizzie wore Hope's forgotten blue beret, found in the bottom of Rebekah's wardrobe, when Josie and Lizzie changed into more comfortable clothes.

Lizzie picked up a mirror, staring at her reflection, "The Hollow's marks have faded, like the life in Nandi's eyes," she'd murmured. "Do you think mum and dad know we almost died tonight?"

"I don't think they know where we are, or why," Josie prodded the logs in the fire. "Do you want to talk about LaMarche, were you friends?" Josie added.

Lizzie sighed, "Not really, I only just met her… I can't believe I'm saying this, but I just want to get back home, even if it means facing the merge," Lizzie admitted. "I just worry, that we're never going to get home, and that this is what our life will be…"

Josie fingered her necklace, "Not without Hope, we owe it to her, to save her family."

Lizzie passed the mirror to Josie, running her fingers through Josie's wet hair.

"It will dry better in front of the fire," she whispered. "I thought the forties would be fun, but there's this smell of death, and high expectations from the covens, and I miss my own clothes, and MG rattling on about comics, and Sebastian, and Mystic Falls…"

Josie understood the feeling, she missed her parents, and the Salvatore Boarding House, her classes, the Stefan Salvatore Memorial library which housed so many of her favourite books and promises of new worlds she had yet to explore. She missed her bed, and simpler times, she was reminded of her summer with Landon, when she had no memories of Hope, and only a void in her heart.

"I'm sorry for not being there for you this summer when I should have been."

Lizzie hooked her arm beneath Josie's, resting her head against her twin's shoulder.

"It's okay, Jo, I forgive you. Besides, I'm glad I got to spend time with Sebastian, because I think this time away from him, only made me realize, I love him," she revealed. "How are we going to get back home? We can't stay here forever?"

Josie sighed. "I don't know, but I'm sure Hope has a plan."

* * *

"Richard Dumas is not fit to be Alpha, that obligation passed to you, Mary," Lenore began. "For this peace treaty to work, we must agree to protect not just our species, but each other. We will bury our dead, and tighten security across the French Quarter, this means, wolves will be given their freedom. Witches will report to LaRue, and the vampires, to Kol. Report anyone whose personalities changed overnight, who possess blue eyes, or markings of the _Ouroboros_, a snake consuming its own tail. Your signatures are required."

Thierry and Diego looked at Marcel in protest, he merely took the pen, and signed his name.

Hope wished she could join Josie and Lizzie in the next room, but there was still much to discuss, including how The Hollow would take what she desired, with whatever method she felt necessary.

"The way to kill Inadu, is to destroy her host," (using the blood of a Labonair). Kol shot Hope a warning look before she could utter this, since if the Hollow was killed in the past, she would not exist in the future, and neither would their present. Changing the future, was not their business, but surviving the present was. "as with what we saw tonight with LaMarche, may she rest in peace, the thing is, as a vengeful spirit, she can possess anyone, anywhere. So, I will make something to stop that from happening. It should be ready by morning."

Mary perused the titles in Marcel's library, the witches scattered about the room, LaRue the only one seated. Thierry and Diego stood, loyal soldiers to their former king. Kol remained by Hope.

"What was the prayer you said for Andrea?" Hope asked Lenore Bennett, whilst the rest of the party signed the treaty.

Lenore accepted her question, as per Mary's nod, "A cleansing, of sorts. To free the dark spirits from bones, and to protect them from The Hollow – should she wish to use Andrea against her family. Richard Dumas believes she could be brought back, well, I have made sure, with Mary's permission, that although she was consecrated, she would not reappear. Her spirit is at peace."

Mary thanked Lenore, and unwrapped her scarf again, much to the room's confusion.

"My husband forgets himself. Andrea alone protects us from harm, and she alone, holds a secret – passed down generations to four families, each pack instructed to hide four indestructible bones from their true host. Each bone belonged to Inadu, our creator, as we know her, The Hollow. She will return, and she will kill to find it, so, I beg you, take it, hide it, where nobody can find it."

Hope stared at part of the jaw belonging to The Hollow, one of her bones she had sought after for centuries, within reach. Marcel offered to bury it beneath The Garden. LaRue offered to bind it, to a weed growing in Lafayette cemetery. Bastiana Claire offered to hide it in her sister, Marie-Claire's empty crypt, her body remained elsewhere, here she threw Kol a daggered glare.

Kol stepped forward. "I might know a place, but I'll require Bastiana's blood."

"And what would you need _my blood_ for?" she quipped.

Kol shrugged, "To open a crypt which houses an assortment of dark objects, some of which I believe you already know of, judging by the rosary in your hand."

Bastiana spluttered, her nose upturned.

Hope did not need to remind Kol, he was speaking with his future mother-in-law.

He softened his features, "I did not know Klaus would trap Marie-Claire or her friend inside Fauline's Cottage, they offered to help me of their own free will."

Bastiana frowned, "You would say that. As a Mikaelson, you were not opposed to her naivety? You should have sought another's company, and not a witch you charmed; however, you did, and you did it for the sake of your own benefit."

Kol grimaced, "I am much wiser now, Miss Claire, and I apologise for any hurt I have caused you and your family, but for the sake of our current predicament, I have a crypt which only opens with the blood of a Claire witch, that leaves you. So, unless anyone has any better ideas, this is all we've got."

LaRue gave Bastiana a nod, to which she responded with pursed lips, and took Kol's arm, reluctantly.

As if to see if he kept by his word, Marcel took LaRue to witness the artefact's new home. Hope stayed with Lenore and Mary, in silence, watching the fire crackle in the hearth, a reminder of the warmth it gave her, despite being stuck in another time. She wished she could question Mary on Richard, on whether he would return to be the husband she knew - kind, caring, her protector, but it did not seem to be the right time.

Hope wondered the locations of the other bones and remembered Alaric had brought one to them years ago, but The Hollow had taken it before they could see it. Hope knew The Hollow was still out there, bidding her time. She would have spies, and Hope wished she could trust easily, but life had taught her, nobody, not even family could be trusted.

Paranoia skirted the shadows around her.

Mary seemed as wary, hiding her daughter's bones once more in her scarf. She was too young to have lost a child, too young to be here, sitting opposite Hope, with a grim smile, and tired eyes.

Agnes set three new cards on the table. "_Judgement; Magician; High Priestess."_

Sinclair sighed, "We get it Agnes, we're all doomed, that much is clear."

Hope peered at the Tarot cards, reminded of her aunts, Freya and Freelin.

"Hmm, _The Judgement_, could mean a reckoning or reflection; _The Magician_, could mean mastery or creation, and _The High Priestess_, usually means divine truth or inner voice. Of course, that is just one side to the story, the three could also be represented in a negative light, which, if I remember correctly, judging by years of home schooling and sharing a house with a coven of ancient witches, that would mean: in order of each card – doubt or self-loathing; trickery or deception; loss of self or hidden agendas…" Hope looked back to Agnes, who seemed both impressed and shocked.

Sinclair stared at her. "What coven did you say you were from?"

Hope raised her eyebrows, caught in the truth. "I'm a descendant of Esther Mikaelson," she caved.

Mary lifted her head, "I thought you said you were of Crescent descent," she asked.

Agnes' eyes bore into her soul, perhaps she had said too much, she thought.

The door opened in the wind, which blew in Marcel, LaRue, Kol and Bastiana. Hope noticed Bastiana's hand had been bandaged, and Marcel dropped a dagger on the table, where Bastiana bid them good morning, taking Agnes and Sinclair with her. Marcel released Theirry and Diego to warn their vampire community and educate them on their new laws. LaRue left with Lenore and Mary, keen to return Andrea's bones to the bayou cemetery.

Hope was left to dwell on her thoughts.

"I don't want to be King," Kol said, continuing a past conversation.

"Well, you are, so you better know what you're doing," Marcel grunted.

"Well, considering we're in this mess because of you, maybe I will stay a while."

"I'd say we're in this mess because of you, and your family."

Kol glared at him, "You were never a Mikaelson, stop trying so hard to be one!"

"Will you shut up!" Hope flicked her wrist out of annoyance, using Freya's silencing spell.

Marcel and Kol stood, tight-lipped, eyes darting around the room, rigid like boards.

"I was almost sacrificed by the Hollow, do me a favour, stop arguing so I can brew this potion."

Marcel and Kol nodded, and she flicked her wrist in the other direction lifting the spell.

Marcel massaged his jaw, sending anxious looks at Kol, who collapsed into a nearby armchair.

"I need some fresh turmeric and sage, get them for me, and try not to murder each other."

* * *

Between her shallow breaths, Josie's light snores and the warmth of the dwindling fire, Lizzie fell into a stupor, letting images bombard her brain. She dreamt of retrieving her shoes, returning home, sneaking icecream from the kitchen, and having picnics with Sebastian, Pride, and Prejudice style. She heard voices in her mind, like a radio in the distance, she presumed she was hearing the Faction, and didn't make anything of it, lying on the rug.

Josie was fast asleep, her head against the bed frame. How that was comfortable Lizzie did not know. Lizzie drifted to sleep, returning her mind to peaceful serenity, and not opening the drawer to the trauma she had just witnessed. No, to LaMarche's final moments. No, to the Hollow possessing her family, no, to any other scenario her brain threw at her.

Peace; water touching her toes; a seagull flying into the sunrise…

_Brynne Deveraux waded into the Mississippi, muttering a spell, sinking into the cold river. Amelia La Fleur stood, a silhouette, on the bridge, as dawn broke across the cloud-less sky. Deveraux sank beneath the dangerous currents, without a cry or splutter... Father Dominic's eyes cast blue as he hid a stake beneath his cloak, passing Jesus on a crucifix. Madeleine Grioux lay amongst roses, a bloodied knife forgotten beneath her outstretched wrists. Thierry and Diego's morose expressions, as LaRue entered Lafayette's cemetery, the witch's blood bleeding into puddles below their feet…_

Lizzie opened her eyes – these were no dreams, they were real. She brought her forefinger to her line of sight, her cut still red and puffy, from Grioux's intended rose thorn. Their deaths flashed in her mind one after the other, LaMarche, Father Dominic, Deveraux, Grioux. Four deaths, four followers…. _how could she be so ignorant? It was her blood; the Hollow was coming for her!_

Lizzie went to Rebekah's writing desk, finding some paper and a quill. She sat staring at the parchment, wishing she could make sense of her mind. She had to write it before she forgot the events. Maybe one was a key to destroying the Hollow, or maybe it was a key to returning home?

_May 1942,_

_Deveraux, Mississippi river, Dubois? _

_La Fleur? Bridge, dawn…_

_Father Dominic possessed by the Hollow?_

_Grioux, suicide, found by Thierry & Diego _

_My blood, the cause?_

Lizzie scribbled notes, trying to make sense of it all, until doors slammed in the distance, and she yawned, resting her head on her arms, still seated at Rebekah's desk, as the sandman claimed her.

* * *

Hope entered Rebekah's room, finding Lizzie asleep at the desk, and Josie on the floor. The bed was free, and she was so tired, the potion was brewing, it was would be ready at dawn. She wanted to close her eyes, but was haunted by fragments of her mind, of when the Hollow resided inside her head and made her do terrible things. She looked through Inadu's eyes, at her mother's defiant face, '_I will not let you take my daughter!' _

Hope reached for the photograph hidden beneath her bra, and stared at her family, missing the one person she needed most, her mother. She could still hear Rebekah's stories of the princess in her castle, and her parents arguing which forced Elijah to speak his two cents, and Kol, who would rant about Davina, because she would always be his family, "_Always and Forever_."

It had not come to her at once, but she had lifted Lizzie's note to read the scribbles with a confused brow. She put the pieces together, knowing Lizzie's true potential as a SEER, and realised not of the events to come, but the events as they were. They were in Rebekah's room, the same room her aunt would be in the present time.

With the photo still in her hand, and the quill, Hope scribbled Lizzie's premonition onto the back of the photo, including the date, and the Hollow's name – what it would do, she could not be sure, but an inkling of curiosity befell her, passed down by somebody in her family, surely it was worth a try.

Hope opened the drawer, rousing Lizzie with the squeak of the wood, and muttered about her to sleep. She layered the photograph on top of the writing pad, beside the ink bottle, and several quills: a message for the future. Maybe it could be some use to Freya or Davina. Rebekah would not give up on them and she prayed, this would be her reward, all she had to do was open her drawer.

Hope did one more thing to ensure her note would be found, stealing some charcoal from the fire, she blew on the wood, causing it to cool down, before scratching just one letter, a M for Mikaelson. In any case, an H would have been far too noticeable, whereas M, could be construed as M for Marcel, or M for Mikaelson. Both which nobody would second guess, being the writing desk of Rebekah Mikaelson, Marcel's sweetheart.

Hope closed the drawer, and returned to the bed, where Lizzie had excused herself. Josie lifted her head as Hope passed, weary, "Is it morning?" Josie asked as Hope helped her stand.

"Not yet," Hope let her body drop beside Lizzie, eager for some shut eye.

Josie threw the quilt over them and buried her head into her pillow, "Goodnight, Hope."

* * *

A figure waiting on the balcony. Hope creeps up the stairs, wiping beignet sugar from her bottom lip, her footsteps soft against the floor. She hears her parents conversing. Elijah is seated nearby, a newspaper on his knee. Marcel's eyes catch her curious ones through the gap in the door. Her breath catches in her throat and she flees to the shadows, his sigh follows her, "Tell your daughter, she does not need to fear me."

The scene changes and repeats… but Klaus is alone, his back to her, alone with his thoughts. Hope takes a deep breath and pushes the door ajar, entering the room.

"Dad?" she ventures forward, confused by his silence.

He turns from the railing, his eyes pulsating neon blue…

Hope's childhood screams morph into her own, her heart weighted in her chest, as fear consumes her. She sat upright, confused by the bodies beside her. Josie muttered a spell, lighting the room with a controlled ball of fire, rotating in her palm. Whilst it warmed them and the room, Lizzie comforted Hope, and asked one question, on both their minds: "Is it The Hollow?"

Her answer was interrupted by Kol and Marcel's abrupt arrival, their gaze upon Hope's terrified face told them of their fears. Josie snuffed the flame from her hand, in her closed fist, as Marcel switched on the light. Lizzie sprang from the bed, determined to protect them, should he think of harming them for using magic, but Kol raised his arm against Marcel – who took a step back.

"Magic in the French Quarter is no longer my concern. My concern is protecting those who cannot protect themselves, children, who will suffer first and foremost, at the hands of The Hollow," Marcel admitted.

Hope exhaled, giving Lizzie and Josie smiles of thanks, and climbed from the bed.

She hugged Kol, comforting them both, "I had a dream, I saw The Hollow possess Klaus."

Kol nodded, pressing his lips against her forehead.

"I promise I won't let her anywhere near you this time."

* * *

Beignets, croissants, chocolat au chaud, everything they could possibly want for breakfast. A buffet of sweets reminded Hope of her childhood. Marcel truly was Klaus' son, his love for sweets had been passed down a generation, and Hope smiled, her nightmares pushed to the back of her mind, whilst she showed Josie and Lizzie her favourite sweets.

"A truce, if you will," Marcel began. "This is how I treat guests in my home."

Kol had icing on his upper lip, beignets were also his favourite, which Hope liked about him.

"I don't mind if I do," Lizzie murmured, plating up, whilst Kol poured them coffee.

"Too much sugar will rot your teeth," Josie warned them.

"Trust you to be the voice of _reason_," Lizzie hissed.

Marcel raised his goblet, which Hope presumed was filled with wine or blood, she turned a blind eye, ready to fill her stomach, then return to business.

"No parents, no rules, except to enjoy oneself, _always and forever_," Marcel uttered.

Footsteps alerted them to a new guest.

The long tables in the courtyard were filled with vampires, humans and witches, a sign of hospitality from Marcel, encouraged through Kol's offer of reconciliation, a new era. Heads swivelled to the eastern side of the courtyard. A gasp from the witches who knew his name, as did the rest of them. Hope's heart stopped as she was faced with someone she had wanted to see since their arrival.

Klaus Mikaelson was alive and well.

"Hello brother," he grinned, hands behind his back, eyes to blood orange skies.

He faced Marcel, "Hello son, have you turned my home into your own little fort?"

Kol held onto Hope, keeping her at bay, there was something off, and Hope felt it too.

It was as if the Necromancer had pulled some strings, knowing Hope's weakness was her father.

Kol had one stupid idea to tell if Klaus really was Klaus, or The Hollow in disguise. He lunged, punching his brother in the face, knocking out a few teeth, which would inevitably grow back.

Klaus rubbed his jaw, mildly annoyed.

"I must say, I'm surprised to see you, Kol. Who let you out? Was it, Elijah, or Rebekah?"

Kol grimaced, "You certainly sound like my brother," he punched Klaus again.

Klaus threw Kol against the wall, where he lay groaning before Klaus turned to Hope.

"I see I have interrupted another of my son's parties, do carry on, I only wish to see what I was missing, you see New Orleans was my home once, before this street urchin, claimed it for his own."

Marcel stepped in, much to Hope's dread, and raised his arms, his confidence and smirk back.

"By all mean, Klaus, my sire, join us, after all, you did raise me in your image."

Klaus Mikaelson grinned, a blue glow in his eyes.

_It was a trick; she should have known the Hollow would not play fair._

Klaus cracked his neck from side to side, Marcel, stepped back, Thierry and Diego wary but on alert.

Klaus held something in his hand, a phial… the potion Hope had been brewing all night. He crushed it easily in his palm, the shards of glass in his hand only seemed to satisfy him.

"Nothing can stop me, Hope. I will find what belongs to me, whether you help me or not."

Hope released Josie and Lizzie's hands, giving them an 'I'll be fine' look, this was her fate.

"Klaus died for me, his daughter. I know your real name _Inadu_, and I'm not afraid of you."

Marcel stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

Hope stepped out in front of Marcel; courage made her his protector.

Kol picked himself up from the rubble, pushing Thierry and Diego aside in his fear to protect Hope.

"Hope, don't. We need you. I know sacrifice runs in our blood, but your parents would kill me if I let anything happen to you," he pleaded.

She could see the fear in his eyes, but it was her fate, and hers alone, as it always had been.

Hope sighed, wishing things could be different, but history was repeating. "I'm sorry, Kol."

Hope raised her arms into the air, pushing all her energy forward, into Death itself.

* * *

"HOPE, NO!"

Lizzie and Josie screamed, running forwards, refusing to let her be the martyr a second time.

It was Josie who threw herself in front of Hope, absorbing the tribrid's power.

She faced The Hollow in her Klaus mask, ready to face all her fears.

It was like she was shielded by a block of ice, separated from her family.

Lizzie and Hope's muffled screams echoed faintly in her ears.

It was Lizzie who had mentioned the merge, the merge which still haunted them both, a Gemini tradition which had already stripped them of their aunts and uncles. If she had known a few days ago, she would sacrifice herself, for the greater good, she would have laughed, but standing there, shielding Hope from the Hollow's darkness gave her strength – and maybe just a little tribrid magic could destroy the darkness within her.

Josie screamed, wrapping her arms around The Hollow, hoping it would be enough to destroy it.

She felt powerful, a bright blinding light exploded around her, and she heard _her_ in her head.

"_Your sacrifice will be not in vain, but if you expect to walk out of this yourself, you are mistaken. No, I am not Klaus Mikaelson, but I can change your fate. You are scared to merge with your sister, so merge with me, give me your full allegiance and I will grant you one wish, and one wish only."_

Josie knew it was the only way. A lone tear rolled down her cheek as she accepted her destiny.

"My friends are stuck between times, send them back, and I will be your most faithful ally."

She could feel Lizzie's fingers digging into her arm.

"Josie, for the love of God, whatever you're thinking it's crazy! I need you!"

"_It was Lizzie's blood that resurrected me, she will blame herself for your death?"_

"She will be better off without me, she said so herself."

"_My family brought me into this world, only to kill me when I became too much. You and I have a lot in common, Josie Saltzman, but still, I am unsure why, tell me why I should believe you?"_

"Josie, I told you before, I am NEVER leaving you, do you hear me?"

Josie felt Hope grab onto her other hand, pleading for her to change her mind.

"Not Josie, take me instead, it was my blood you wanted!" Lizzie yelled.

"Because you and I are the same, darkness is our destiny, and we do not run from fate."

Josie felt like her body was going to be ripped apart as the Hollow's energy spread through her body.

Klaus was gone, and she only had seconds, before her plan was set in motion.

She looked at Lizzie, Hope and Kol, their fearful expressions matched Marcel's, but Josie was not afraid, not anymore, she knew what Hope had felt when she had entered Malivore. Josie could still feel human emotions, she was still partly herself. It was not the end; she would see them again.

She closed her eyes tight, "Remember your promise," she whispered to Inadu.

_It is done._

Josie opened her eyes, a fluorescent blue, her family gone, and only Marcel left gaping in their wake.

* * *

**A/N: How we feeling? I was slightly emotional writing this. Got some good twists coming up in chapter 6, stay tuned. Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews x**


	6. Triad Industries

**Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowed and nurtured. A/N: Thanks for the reviews & favs. Shout out to ****Dazzle2002 ****thank you for the chats via DM. So good to see the solidarity for BLM/Pride across so many countries. The world is waking up, and we need your voices and signatures. I contemplated for ages over how to structure this one, I hope you enjoy it, please R&R.**

**YOUNGBLOOD**

**vi**

_When thinking about life_

_remember this:_

_no amount of guilt_

_can change the past_

_and no amount of anxiety_

_can change the future _

_\- unknown_

* * *

Hope woke to mosquitoes stinging her face whilst resting on netted reeds on the edge of the bayou. Where was she? _When_ was she? She looked up at an abandoned cottage: the flyscreen hung from its hinges, windows were boarded with planks, and broken beer bottles were scattered in the wild grass. Mary's purple flowers were long gone.

She stood, her limbs heavy and mind reeling from Josie's sacrifice, tears glistened against her cold cheeks. How long had the cottage stood, falling to ruins? How long before squatters took residence, and kids made it their hide-out? Did anything remain of its history? Hope strode forwards, past the gravestones covered in moss, their plaques the only imprint of the past.

Was Mary's name among the dead?

"Lizzie? Kol?"

Josie was _not_ gone, she was_ not_ swallowed by darkness, she _was not_ The Hollow's host.

Hope did not want to live in a world without her best friend, so she would not accept Josie's sacrifice as her fate – she vowed she would find Josie again, and when she found Lizzie and Kol, and determined _when_ they were in time, they would find Freya, and return to save Josie, before she sacrificed herself, that was, if time still existed like it once had...

Who knew what awaited them in the current time now Josie and The Hollow had merged?

"I'm here, where are you?"

Hope glanced at Andrea's grave, then pushed open the fly screen, tripped over the mat and sprawled against the floorboards with the dusty photographs and broken frames. She winced in pain, pulling the glass from her palm, her wound healed quickly, as she lifted Mary's wedding photo, lost in memories. She stared up at the peeling wallpaper, broken appliances no longer with working electricity, and recalled the gumbo on the stove.

"What did the Hollow do to you all? I am so sorry, Mary. I would have stayed if I could."

* * *

Hope heard the wolves padding into the clearing. She stood tall, fearless, as she heard Hayley's voice in her ear, 'be yourself: a Labonair, your Crescent mark is your birthright.' Hope held her shoulders back, in what she pictured was a royal stance, her hands by her side, ready to use her magic if provoked: she was still a Tribrid, the only one of her kind.

'_Nobody would dare challenge a Tribrid, they'd have to be mad,' Klaus smirked, as they tested Hope's witchcraft at age seven - she smashed beer bottles with stones, showing her eye was as good as her growl. Her parent's love and encouragement for her uniqueness was what Hope latched onto during times she missed them most. They had protected her from crazed witches, her own grandmother, witch cults, The Guerra's, and The Hollow, and during all that, all Hope ever wanted was some down time with her family. _

She looked to the Heavens; a lone wolf, separated from her pack.

The wolves encircled her, their shackles raised, unsure of her intentions, led by one black wolf whose features she recognised. She had found him in the woods, the day Malivore ejected her from the pit, her heart broken after seeing Josie and Landon's declaration of love. She had set him free and remembered what she had said to him as clear as day, 'Landon needs you; _I need you_!"

Now, here they were, separated again by time, with one thing in common – the ability to turn at will. Rafael pulled clothes from a tree branch, a curious look in his eyes, as he pulled on jeans, and Hope averted her eyes, trying not to look down, or up, or anywhere in the vicinity of his muscular body. Instead she watched the others, realizing they too were turning, people of all ages and ethnicity.

"Hope? What are you doing here?" he grinned, at least he hadn't forgotten her this time.

Hope sighed, "I'm lost," she lied, it was partially true.

Rafael pulled on a navy t-shirt and opened an esky on the porch which Hope had not noticed, handing beers to the rest of his pack, "This is Hope Mikaelson, she saved my life countless times. You're welcome to stay. We're pretty laid back, some of us are Crescents, some of us are Malraux, some of us don't know who we are, but we're ok with that," he shrugged. "We're all nomads, one way or another," he smiled.

Hope nodded, watching the pack run errands, some pulling camper chairs from beneath the house, others putting together a bonfire with sticks and leaf litter, some giving her curious stares as she took a seat and brought the beer to her lips, wondering where Lizzie, and Kol were. Rafael's confidence shone through, and he seemed happy, almost. He clinked his glass against hers, and took a sip, "Nice to have you home again," he added.

Hope smiled, and Rafael left his beer with her, to pat 'Eli' on the back, and enter Mary's cottage, only to return to his chair with a book, no… _her journal_. She took her tattered grimoire from him, as if it were likely to fall apart in her hands. She ran her hand over its dusty cover, breathing a sigh of relief.

"You found it?" she felt overwhelmed by his gesture. "Raf, thank you!" Hope hugged him, unable to put her thoughts into words, and heard Rafael's chuckle against her ear.

"You're welcome, now how about you tell us that big adventure you went on?"

Hope wasn't sure where to begin.

"To be honest, I'm not sure it's over yet," she relocated the time travel spell. "Josie sacrificed herself to save us. She merged with The Hollow and sent us here. I have to get back to May 1942."

Rafael didn't tell her she was nuts, although the expressions on the other wolves' faces seemed to contradict him, but instead he said, "If anyone can find a way, it's you Hope." She found his words a source of comfort. "If this year taught me anything, it's life isn't about choice, sometimes you don't have control over what happens, you just gotta move on."

"How did you move on?" Hope breathed; the flames danced in Rafael's eyes.

Rafael shrugged, "I don't think we ever forget our first loves."

Hope found his sentence resonate with her, her first love had been Roman, who had fed on her innocence, and used it against her – he and his family's legacy were to blame for Hayley's death. But maybe she was wrong, maybe he was only a lesson in who she should accept in her life, and who she shouldn't. He remained a painful reminder of her mother's untimely death.

Maybe Rafael was hinting at his brother, Landon, who knew her milkshake order off by heart, who was the boy she danced with under the stars, and whom Klaus only pretended to like, just to please her. Landon who was like a comet, colliding with her very existence. Star-crossed lovers, that couple who held hands in public, and kissed in assemblies when they thought nobody was looking, and who were weirdly in sync, without meaning to, supporting each other through anything…that first love.

Or maybe, he meant that love she hadn't experienced yet, the love of a friend, and the line you weren't sure to cross, because it was complicated. The love that scared you deep down, but knew would eventually come to light, one way or another, the love that could no longer be ignored.

"Raf, I-"

Hope sighed, unsure of her feelings, he seemed to heed her nerves, and pulled away.

"You want another beer?"

Hope nodded, and drained her first one, willing her heartbeat to slow down.

"Sure, and a three-course dinner," Rebekah smiled, kicking off bayou mud from her boots.

Hope leapt from her seat, her grimoire still in her hand, "Aunt Rebekah!"

"The last time I did this, was with your mum, and you were a tiny grape inside her tummy."

Hope blushed, as Rafael passed out more beers, melting into the crowd.

"How about it, Rafael? Your pack is welcome as Marcel needs patrons at Rousseau's."

Rebekah drained her beer and hooked her arm around Hope's shoulders.

"Did I just see you almost kiss Rafael?" she hissed in her niece's ear.

"No, you need your eyes tested."

"Okay, but if you wanted my opinion, which I know you value above all others, even if you think it's too complicated, because you're vulnerable, what with Josie stuck in 1942, and Lizzie trying to navigate through her SEER powers, and Kol in Mystic Falls, it's okay to pause, to breathe, and to decide what it is you need this exact moment, because I love you, and I won't judge you for it."

Hope sighed, as Rebekah raised her eyebrows, "It's okay to feel, whatever your feeling. So, before we go, just make sure you've said all you need to say, because life is too short to hesitate, trust me."

Hope returned to Rafael, who was probably trying to decipher her racing heartbeat, and kissed him, setting off the rest of the pack, with howls and cheers. Why had she been so unsure of her feelings, when it was Rafael who she knew already liked her for who she was, who respected her as a fellow werewolf, and who had befriended her when no other had. Maybe it was time for her to accept it herself - she deserved love, and waiting around for it, wasn't the best plan of action.

* * *

Kol found himself in front of the Salvatore Boarding School, where before he had even raised his fist to knock, the door opened in a creepy fashion. A girl gave him a curious look, she reminded Kol of Snow White, she seemed to be the leader of her soiree of starlings who had stopped twittering due to his sudden appearance.

He cleared his throat, "I was looking for, uh, Caroline?"

"She's not here," he swore she would have closed the door, if he hadn't have added,

"Alaric then?"

"He's with Mr Gilbert." She paused, confused, "Are you a teacher?"

Kol smirked as he crossed the threshold, "No, I'm not a _teacher_."

The girl stepped back; her smile crumbled. "So, if you're not a teacher, who are you?"

"Kol Mikaelson, I'm looking for my niece, Hope, you haven't seen her, have you?"

She shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. "A Mikaelson, don't we have the honour. You do realise you're in a school with untrained witches? You better behave yourself, _vampire_."

Kol narrowed his eyes, he was reminded of another witch, one who probably still hated him.

"Aren't you a ball of sunshine, and I'd like to see you try. You may be a witch, but I can still compel you to _leave me alone." _His attempt failed; no doubt Caroline had thought of this.

"And you forget who our headmaster is. _Anti-compulsion spells_. Now, as fun as this has all been-"

Kol sighed, looking at the fireplace, nothing much had changed by way of décor.

"Fine but answer me this. Has anything strange, out of the ordinary occurred here?"

"This is a supernatural school; can you be more specific?" the girl quipped.

Kol shrugged, "The Hollow, she was a student here, went by the name of Josie Saltzman?"

The girl shrugged, "Never heard of her, and I haven't seen Hope, I presumed she'd wolfed out somewhere, she does that. You're welcome to wait; I'll tell Headmistress Bennett you're here."

Kol followed the girl up to Hope's room, with a wariness in his step.

Bonnie Bennett was Headmistress to a bunch of delinquent girls, that's all he needed.

He frowned, "I don't suppose you have any blood bags? I'm famished."

The girl barely turned around, "I'll have Alyssa bring you some from the kitchen."

* * *

Kol sat in Hope's room, he flicked through her textbooks, bored. He sucked on a blood bag the Alyssa girl had thrown at him, before prancing off to meet her boyfriend, Jug, or something, Kol didn't care. He cared about where Hope was, and whether she would be okay after Josie sacrificed her soul for the Hollow. He worried about Lizzie whose premonitions were telling, of the emerging apocalypse, and he worried that his actions had changed things between him and Davina.

He looked at the photographs on Hope's desk, with Landon, milkshake boy from Rousseau's. He remembered when they had started dating, and the video calls he'd shared so he could tease Hope. He moved his gaze to her uniform, her jumper tossed on her bed, the red S emblem on her jacket, a reminder of Caroline's dream to open a school under her Salvatore name, and how Klaus' donations funded her success.

His brother had really been smitten with Caroline Forbes, he thought.

_She looks like a tasty little thing_

_Say another word and I'll tear out your liver_

Kol looked at the twins in another photograph, it looked like Hope had found a surrogate family, one to fill the void of missing her parents, and he had to ruin it, by giving her that spell. He noticed how happy the trio of witches were – their own coven. He heard the door creak and swung around to see Bonnie Bennett's terse expression – a formidable ball of fire rotating in her palm.

"I can explain," he stuttered.

Bonnie threw the fireball at him. He ducked, the flames devoured Hope's cork board as Bonnie's patience dwindled. Kol hurried on with his explanation, "It was a time travel spell, to help Hope see her parents, but we ended off course, and Josie's stuck in 1942, with the Hollow, and whilst I don't know exactly where Lizzie or Hope is, I just wanted to check, they weren't here-" Kol peered beneath his shielded arms, to see his wife, Davina.

He sighed in relief at seeing her friendly face.

"You better pray, we can fix this," she said.

Kol stood and the flames receded, the ball of fire doused itself in Bonnie's fist.

"You didn't have to scare me like that," Kol said, as Davina crossed the room, and kissed him.

"And you didn't have to steal my grimoire, what was wrong with the rose idea?"

"I just wanted to make her dreams come true, besides, roses have thorns."

"You, Kol Mikaelson, are a thorn in my side," Bonnie snapped.

"Always a pleasure, _darling_. Let me guess, you married my old friend, Jeremy Gilbert?"

Bonnie narrowed her eyes, raising her hand again.

Kol ducked out of habit, and Bonnie smirked.

* * *

They were sitting in Stefan's memorial library with various artefacts Kol recognised, most had come from his crypt in New Orleans. The rosary of beads he had seen in Bastiana's possession, the handcuffs, which rendered the wearer non-magical, and a bone which looked remarkably like the one he had hidden that day in 1942. He turned to Davina, pointing at it, speechless.

"I brought it back with me, just in case."

"You brought it _here_?"

"Yes, so Bonnie could study it, and where Caroline could protect it."

"_And?_ Did you find a way to destroy it?" Kol demanded of Bonnie.

Davina's warning glance and tightened squeeze to his arm, made him add with reluctance.

"Please Bonnie, can you tell me what you discovered?"

Bonnie pointed to piles of books on the table beside her, all stamped with Whitmore University.

"I followed in my Grams' footsteps, she taught Occult at Whitmore. So, I studied every book I could find on Native American mythologies, and discovered the only way to destroy the bones, is for The Hollow to reclaim them – but alas…"

"The Hollow is dead," Davina sighed, in defeat.

Kol raised his finger in the air, "Well, actually…"

A storm cloud crept across Davina's face, "_What did you do_?"

"It wasn't me; it was the damn accolades?!" Kol sighed, as Davina's fingers wrapped themselves around his skull, pulling up memories of the past, and sifting through The Hollow's resurrection.

"You let them resurrect her? Kol!"

"What was I meant to do? Let them kill Hope again? We were lucky Josie stopped her. Hope has this complex, I don't know, maybe you know it, it's called Mikaelsons _dying for each other_."

Bonnie pulled books at random with the wave of her hand, without leaving her seat.

"Why is it we remember The Hollow, but not Josie? Because _she_ is her host, and The Hollow lives in her mind and spirit. She exists in literature, so we know Josie wasn't erased entirely..."

Kol listened to her thoughts and added, "If all four of us had returned together, the timeline would have reset, but three of us returned, so there is only ¼ change to the timeline. I thought it had to be Bonnie's presence, but that girl who answered the door, she's supposed to be in Belgium. Hope told me, Penelope broke up with Josie, and moved to Belgium last term – so what's she doing here?"

Davina turned to Bonnie, her thoughts connecting with his. "If the Hollow required Labonair blood to be destroyed, then without Hope, Hayley, or her parents, Josie cannot be saved," Davina mused.

Bonnie agreed, "Grams' diary states there were more sacrifices in New Orleans, Jackson, Mystic Falls, and Atlanta in 1953, so The Hollow terrorized these cities for eleven years, until something happened, something that reset the present to an almost replica of what you knew, which is why only you, and Hope and Lizzie, will remember Josie, and the real timeline."

Kol flicked through his memories, the present events finally making sense.

"In my timeline, we managed to save Hope from the Hollow because Vincent split her into each of us. When Klaus and Elijah died, the only others who knew the siphoning spell were Lizzie and Josie. So, if we were to find The Hollow from 1953, we could get Hope and Lizzie to siphon her magic and put it into an empty vessel – maybe Aurora, she's mad, and buried beneath a ton of bricks."

Davina sighed, shaking her head. "Aurora deserves to stay hidden after what she did to Cami; I'm not setting her loose, or her brother, Tristan. We need to find someone else."

Bonnie's eyes lit up, unnerving Kol with her idea.

"There is someone else who would be more than happy to take her power," Bonnie thought.

"Who?" Kol frowned, as Davina picked up the book Bonnie had across her lap.

"Someone who thinks he has us wrapped around his dead finger, The Necromancer."

* * *

Lizzie walked through a deserted Bourbon Street, where there was no jazz, no Josie and no Marcel. The green shutters were fixed behind black balustrades. The street signs rattled in a wind that ravished her hair, as she yelled Hope's name. Her visions of LaMarche and Grioux's deaths never left her mind, their screams like a crescendo in her ears – layered with Josie's final moments.

A tidal wave of grief rose in Lizzie's fragile chest. She released her emotions, not caring who heard, she was truly alone. She felt her energy drain from her body, rain fell heavy against her numb body.

She collapsed in the gutter, "Why Josie, and not me?"

There was a scurry of feet, and soft voices dragged her limp body into the courtyard.

"She's gone._ They're all dead!" _Lizzie turned to MG, clutching his shirt, haunted by her visions.

MG turned to Keelin, and Landon, scared by the intensity in her eyes.

Rebekah hurried over with a cup of tea, which Freya encouraged, heating it with her hand.

"Here, Lizzie, have some tea, it will soothe your mind," Freya murmured. "Take your time."

Lizzie sipped her peppermint tea, sniffing back tears, half the witch she used to be. MG hovered by her side, whilst Landon stared, and Freya, Rebekah, and Keelin huddled by a table filled with books. Lizzie eyed the compound, covered in ivy and fairy lights. There was a void in her chest, her link to Josie, severed, she had no idea how her sister felt, or whether she cared at all.

How was she to move on without her twin? And where were Hope and Kol?

"Lizzie, you've been gone for days…" MG's worried eyes bore into her diminished soul.

Lizzie put down her teacup, the words on the tip of her tongue. She thought it would be easy once she began, but the trauma of losing Josie had only just begun. It took several efforts, Freya's calm influence, and another cup of peppermint tea, before Lizzie was able to explain in full.

"We found ourselves in 1942, Hope's Christmas gift gone wrong, but we made the most of it, or at least, I did. I tried to find Sebastian, leaving Hope and Josie with a werewolf rebellion, and Kol kidnapped by Marcel, who was King of New Orleans. LaRue found me, and I became part of the uprising against Marcel, with the Nine Covens – they needed my magic. Marcel used his power to keep the witches and wolves in their place - his word was final."

Lizzie took a sip of tea, "We met Brynne Deveraux, Kol knew her by another name-"

"-_Celeste Dubois_," Rebekah's eyes darkened without explanation.

Lizzie nodded, "She helped Marcel, by reporting those who challenged him. LaMarche and Grioux became The Hollow's followers, they sacrificed themselves to resurrect The Hollow – almost killing us too. Marcel broke the boundary spell by killing LaMarche and became our ally."

MG and Landon gaped at her, soaking in each detail.

Rebekah sighed, after hearing no harm came to Marcel – but Lizzie had not finished.

"It was my blood that helped resurrect The Hollow. I thought I would be next. Hope tried to be the martyr, she would have died for us, if it weren't for Josie. Josie absorbed Hope's power and confronted The Hollow, who took Klaus' form. I think she made a deal, to send us back." Lizzie could not go on, a lump of emotion formed in her throat, hot tears welled in her glassy eyes.

Freya exchanged an alarmed look with Rebekah.

"What's a Hollow?" Landon asked, trying to keep up.

MG looked equally confused.

Lizzie pictured the neon blue glow in LaMarche, Dominic and now Josie's eyes, scared for her sister.

"Your worst nightmare," Keelin opened an old book and put it on the table for Landon to read.

_Inadu, later known as The Hollow for her sadistic nature, was the daughter of two Native Americans, both of royal bloodlines. To ensure the baby had good health, several witches blessed the unborn child, but as the child grew, her true nature was unleashed, and Inadu fed on fear, chaos and apathy, destroying her own people, in a thirst her parents knew not. As she watched the world burn, a witch elder cursed an axe and gave it to Inadu's mother. Before she was slain, Inadu cursed all those involved, and thus became the werewolf line. It is rumoured four families, took four of Inadu's indestructible bones, hiding them from her zealots, for if they were found, The Hollow would return, and wreak havoc on anyone she pleases. _

"Who were the four families?" Rebekah asked, pointing to that line in the book.

Lizzie shrugged, "I don't know, but I think Hope and Kol did." Tears dripped from her eyes like a broken faucet. "I don't know where they are, though?" she shivered, eying Landon's jacket.

Freya took Lizzie's arm, dropping her necklace from her shirt, it swung like a pendulum.

"If they are here, then they should show on the map – Kol."

The necklace stopped on Mystic Falls, which Keelin circled with a red marker.

Freya tried again, "Hope," this time her necklace pointed to The Bayou.

"She's here, but her presence is faint… Rebekah, find Rafael, he can pick up her scent."

"I'm coming with you," Landon threw on his jacket.

Freya blocked him, "I need you to stay here, and before you say what I know in my heart is true, _listen to me_, if we are to take on The Hollow, a Phoenix might be exactly what we need."

"There's a footnote," MG pulled the journal towards him, gaining their attention.

"That's not a footnote, that's an ink blotch," Landon said.

Lizzie looked at the page, and stared at the symbol, "No, it's a letter, M, for _Marcel_ or _Mikaelson_."

She pushed her grief aside, and ran to Rebekah's room, hoping the photograph was still there. The message Hope had left, intending it to travel through time, to communicate to her family –

"Where are you going?" Landon asked, catching Freya's curious gaze.

"Hope left you a message from 1942, I just remembered!"

"What is it?" MG and Landon hurried after her.

"A photograph!" Lizzie rummaged through the drawer, not remembering this much junk in 1942. She pulled out scissors, a ball of wool, a hanky, sticky notes, fold back clips, an old phone, cords, notepads, and the photograph with faded edges - her visions written on the back.

She handed it to MG. "Maybe something on here can help find Josie," she smiled.

MG read out her notes with some confusion, Landon looked over his shoulder.

"Deveraux, the Deveraux sisters owned Rousseau's. The bar we've been helping Marcel with."

"La Fleur, isn't there an Occult shop with that name near Jackson Square?" Landon queried.

"Father Dominic, there's a plaque in St Anne's about him," MG remembered.

"Grioux was my friend," Lizzie shrugged. "I need to speak with LaRue, is she alive?"

Freya entered Rebekah's room, taking the photograph from MG's outstretched hand.

"I'll take you to the Regent, Lizzie. Keelin needs to pick up Nik anyway."

"Nik?" Lizzie queried, following them downstairs.

"Our son, Hope's cousin. Nik, named after my famous brother," Freya winked. "Funnily enough, the similarities are uncanny, since he's also a hybrid: part witch, part werewolf," her eyes twinkled.

"And he shares Klaus' temper," Keelin added, kissing her wife's temple.

Lizzie missed having Josie beside her.

* * *

Lizzie crossed through Lafayette Cemetery with a heavy heart, passing by the consecrated graves, once famous for housing ancestral magic which New Orleans witches used as their source of power. Now, they were like all others, dependant on earth's elements: air, water, fire, she heard the soft grumble of thunder above, and missed Josie's irritating forecast of babble.

The silence was unnerving, and she counted the mausoleums until she found LaRue, discovering her death had ended in sacrifice, willingly given to Hope's Great aunt, Dahlia. The others, so Vincent had heard through the covens, died more recently. The Harvest ritual cost Bastiana her life when Marcel saved Davina. Agnes attempted to kill Hope's mother, during a botched pregnancy scan, and died at Elijah's wrath. LaFleur, Celeste's host, had drowned in the Mississippi like Deveraux, leaving Sheila Bennett, until she took the brunt of Bonnie's spell, leaving Bonnie her sole legacy.

Lizzie was relieved to find there was no plaque for Josie, after wandering up and down the crypts and mausoleums for more than an hour. She had not noticed MG and Landon waiting beneath the gates of Lafayette Cemetery. It was Landon, whose voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm sorry about your sister. I wish I remembered her."

"You dated her all summer."

"I did?"

"Yeah, I suppose you both gravitated to each other, because you had Hope in common."

"What was Josie like?"

"She was bubbly, intelligent, caring, the opposite of me."

MG noticed the bite in Lizzie's answer and watched her sit on the cracked stone of an old grave.

After a beat, she asked, "Did Sebastian ask about me?"

MG wrung his hands in his lap, as he sat beside her. "He didn't say much."

Landon shot MG a pressing look, "In fact, he sort-of left. We haven't seen him either."

Lizzie stood up, "_He left me?_ I spent decades thinking about him, trying to find him, and he didn't even wait to hear where I've been this whole time? _He left_? I can't believe I had sex with him. I can't believe I'm sitting in a cemetery, heartbroken, with you two, because my ass of a boyfriend, decided to fuck-off to Timbuctoo, whilst my life literally falls apart…"

Landon gave MG an alarmed look, which Lizzie missed because she had accidently set fire to the weeds below her feet in her anger at her lame ass vampire boyfriend. A quick-thinking Landon picked up a bucket of rainwater, and dumped it on the burning weeds, wiping the sweat from his brow. Lizzie barely flinched, her thoughts elsewhere.

"Tell me about those dreams you had," MG asked, a definite tact to distract her.

"I haven't _seen _anything since Josie…" she couldn't say it, she couldn't think of her sister, dead.

"What about the ones from that photograph, can you tell us about them?" Landon pressed.

"Oh yeah, I'll just relive the most traumatic experience of my life, shall I, for you?"

Landon kicked a stone across the ground, backing off.

MG rested his hand on hers, his touch made her anger dissipate.

"I know talking about Josie is difficult, but we're here for you, and we always will be."

Lizzie let his words sink in, "I don't have control of it, they come to me when I'm in a relaxed state, like memories, flashes, that show something is about to happen, has happened, or will happen."

MG's eyes lit up, like when he explained his love for the Green Lantern, and Captain America.

"So, think of your dreams as if they're superpowers. You're a SEER, your magic is connected to the earth. You feel emotions from innate objects, and from people you care about. You should talk to Hope's aunt, Davina. She's lived through similar experiences…used to draw her visions on paper."

Landon cleared his throat, "Except she's in Mystic Falls, Bonnie called."

"You're not alone in this," MG reminded Lizzie, bumping her shoulder with a smile.

Lizzie failed to return it, without Josie or Hope, the world was a lonely place.

"Thanks MG," she whispered, glancing at Landon's muppet hairdo.

* * *

Hope followed Rebekah as she weaved through the tables in Rousseau's, aware of Rafael's hand in hers. There were a few embarrassing wolf whistles, which were drowned out by Stevie Nicks' music. Rebekah smirked, arms crossed against her chest, as Marcel began to sing the opening verse.

_In the city of dreams_

_Lies the city's ghosts_

_There's a beginning_

_there's a middle and there's an end_

_in this city_

_we throw a _

_big party_

_so, hearts will start to mend_

_we forgive… at least we try_

Hope and Rafael noticed Kaleb on the piano. To their right, playing shaker, was Vincent Griffith, with a young violinist, Hope didn't recognise. Upon seeing Rebekah though, the boy shouted, "Aunt Rebekah!" much to Hope's dismay. Her cousin, Nik, whom she had last seen as a boy sitting on Keelin's knee last Christmas, was now a tween.

Marcel jumped from the stage and swept Rebekah into a passionate embrace, which made Hope and Rafael move on to greet Vincent. Vincent gave Hope a pleasant nod, tuning his bio-son's violin strings. "You probably don't remember this, but that little boy you rescued in '42, was me, and I don't think I'll ever forget how brave you were, Hope Mikaelson, thank you."

"I'm glad you're here, Vincent," Hope whispered, leaning against Rafael.

"Where else would I be?" he asked, listening to Kaleb practice.

Hope shrugged, "I don't know," she admitted. "I wasn't sure, actually."

Vincent sighed, "The Hollow… you don't know what happened, do you?"

Hope felt her breath catch in her throat, she shook her head, scared of Josie's fate.

Marcel had broken away from Rebekah and ordered drinks for them all.

"The Hollow wanted her bones, and she didn't care who she sacrificed. I want you to know, it's not your fault, and you need to understand something... your friend, Josie…she's gone, it's as simple as that. There's no way to get her back once the Hollow has you. She anchored herself into Josie's mind, blood, and soul – she erased her from existence."

"No," Hope said, aghast. "She can't be, I'm going to get Josie back."

Vincent continued, "There was a war, worse than what they told you in the History books. The Hollow attacked our city, she resurrected Father Dominic to lead her army. She used Richard Dumas to militarize the wolves, Mary had no choice but to leave New Orleans. The witches, Lenore Bennett and Josephine LaRue were forced to watch her sacrifice covens, to feed her insatiable hunger."

At this point, Marcel chipped in, and Hope noticed scars which should have healed upon his torso.

"The vampires were reduced to the shadows, feeding on strays, for our daylight rings were rendered useless. If we were to beg for a better life, she would request a favour – her bones, for our lives. Of course, this was impossible, as nobody knew where the bones were, and nobody could enter Kol's crypt. I watched as my inner circle were decimated, until I, and only a few of my vampires, survived."

"Thierry and Diego?" Hope ventured sadly.

Marcel paused, "Diego was killed by Francesca Guerra when you were a baby. Thierry was killed by Elijah, and not a minute goes by that I forget. I'd turned Thierry at a war hospital in the 40s, he was a great musician. Guess you don't realise the importance of a friendship, until it's lost. I can't help but notice your _friend_, does he have a name?"

Hope flushed pink, turning into Rafael's shoulder in a failed escape to drag him elsewhere.

"Marcel Gerard, Hope's older brother, and you are?"

Rafael held out his hand, "Rafael Waithe," he smiled, "I'm camping in the Bayou, with some friends."

"Lucia Waithe? As in the _Malraux_ pack," Marcel queried, squeezing Rafael's hand, tight.

Rafael stayed cool and collected, "Yes, my mother served in Afghanistan, she was killed on duty."

"Sorry to hear, if you hurt Hope, you will not make it out of this city alive, got me?"

Rafael winced as Marcel released his hand, and said, "I'm not going to hurt her."

Marcel patted him on the shoulder, "No you're not," and he returned to the stage.

Hope looked up into Rafael's somewhat dulled expression, "I'm sorry, he's a tad overprotective," she grimaced, "Ever since my parents died…" she croaked, letting the sentence die altogether, he got the gist of it, the pain was still fresh, and the thought still brought tears to her eyes.

Rafael curled a stray stand of hair behind Hope's ear. "Do I look scared to you?"

"No," Hope was lost in his fierce gaze, and his lips swept against hers. "What was that for?"

"Can't I kiss my girlfriend, after an intense interrogation with her brother?"

Hope smirked, "Girlfriend?"

Rafael blushed, taking a step back, "I just assumed…but if it's too quick, I understand if you don't want to call it that, we could stay friends, best friends, or casual partners, werewolf friends…"

Hope kissed him back, to save him from getting even more flustered.

"Boyfriend, I like it," she smiled.

Kaleb started to play _Canon in D_, which Hope only noticed because of the chorus of laughs which were coming from the werewolf table at the back. Rebekah looked like she was planning their nuptials, sending Hope scurrying into the kitchen to stir some Gumbo, and take a minute to herself. She liked Raf, and she liked the excitement of a new relationship.

She wanted to get to know him, and she hoped he could heal her broken heart.

* * *

_May 1953_

"The bones, where are they?" Inadu hissed, as she crossed the open field, patience dwindling.

_Not far_, Josie said. _In fact, you are almost on top of them._

"I see nothing."

_Pity, you need to open your eyes, for only those who believe in Triad Industries, can see their cause_.

"Who are Triad Industries?"

_They are an organization, who keep a close eye on the Supernatural, they clean up messes, large and small, and whom have collections of ancient artefacts, including your bones. The entrance is inside that bunker. _

"You better be telling the truth."

_Why would I lie, I am your most faithful servant, and I do not break my promises._

* * *

_1942 _

"I do not have much time," Josie whispered, holding a lit candle, its plumes of smoke had sedated The Hollow as per La Fleur's instructions. "I am Josie, but that's not important."

"Ryan Clarke," The man was tall, his suit dark, with a purple tie. His English was formal, and there was an air of aristocracy in the way he held himself, as well as the way he shook her hand, and offered her a tour of Triad Industries, located in Fort Valley, Georgia. He had beady eyes that reminded her of a crow, but he was her only escape, and time was running out.

"What can I do for you?"

"I know about Malivore, and I need a favour."

Clarke fumbled with his lanyard key, but Josie knew his destiny, and she did not fall for his act.

"I know about the pit, about your father: the Gollum, about the monsters you erase, the cult you work for; how he humiliated you, and how you wanted revenge. I can give you the freedom you so desperately crave."

Clarke narrowed his eyes, "And what makes you think I'd accept?"

Josie smirked, "Because in time, you die, so, I will grant you one wish, and one wish only."

Clarke stared at the strange being, seeing and hearing two separate souls.

"Who was it, who killed me?" he demanded, incensed.

"The Necromancer," Josie revealed, the candle flickered in the stale air of the bunker.

"_I want him dead_."

Josie stared at the screens recording what could be mistaken as an oil spill, "I will grant your wish, but only after you hear mine. I am the monster, Inadu. I want you to open your doors to me on May 3rd, 1953, keep me in the pit until June 6, 1991, where you will release me, and let me feed."

Clarke knew of Inadu, how Josie did not ask, "There must be a soul in your place, whose will it be?"

"Richard Dumas, but not before 1991, and time will tell."

"Your blood is tainted with the tribrid's, Malivore will not let you stay forever."

Josie's memories of being shot by Triad Industries were like a distant dream. Hope's blood had healed her wound and given her life again. Josie had paid her debt to her, by saving Hope's life.

"_Do I have your word_?"

"Yes, Josie, I will open my doors, if you bring me the Necromancer."

Josie shook his hand, "Christmas Eve, 2029, midnight, do not turn your back on anyone."

Josie glanced at the sage candle, almost down to its last wick, and muttered a spell.

She opened her eyes, standing in Jackson Square out the front of LaFleur's shop window, and blew out the candle, letting the smoke haze engulf her. She crept back to the corners of her mind, deep in her conscious, where Inadu could not find her – as her ghostly blue eyes grew bright.

* * *

**A/N: I tried to tell this chapter in each of its sections by going back in time, I hope that came across. Please review and let me know what your favourite part/character(s) were. Also, according to Reddit Legacies is set 2029, but was it Christmas '29 or '30… forgive me if this is wrong. Stay tuned for ch7, which may or may not be the last chapter, depending on my mood. **


	7. The Necromancer

**Disclaimer: Not mine as much as I wish, borrowed and nurtured. A/N: Hope you are all doing okay what with the covid19/lockdown restrictions. Thanks for your reviews, I hope this story brings you some joy in a mad, mad, world. This chapter pulls elements from s2, with, ofc, a twist x**

**YOUNGBLOOD**

**vii**

_But he, that dares not grasp the thorn_

_Should never crave the rose – Anne Bronte._

* * *

**August 6, 1991**

Marcel Gerard heard the baby's cries beyond the bayou.

He entered the cabin, stepping over ransacked books and broken toys. The moon shone through a shattered window, and Marcel felt a breeze wash over him. He knelt to check the pulse of a man lying in the nursery, and grimaced – he was dead.

A few paces ahead, lay a mother, stolen from her child. He noticed a teddy, ripped apart to reveal an empty pocket, which never encased one of The Hollow's bones; it remained safe in Kol's vault, as they'd agreed in 1942. The Labonairs were survived by their daughter, Andrea, who sat, a month old, crying for her parents. He went to her crib and picked her up into his arms, "It's okay, I've got you."

He hummed the Nordic Lullaby Hope sang in '42, the one Klaus sang when he was just a kid.

"You do not need to fear me."

Her tiny hand clutched Marcel's finger, causing his smile to return.

Marcel arrived at St Anne's church, and tapped on the door, hoping to confide in an old friend.

* * *

**Rousseau's 2029**

"You could have hugged Hope, you know? She would have liked that."

Marcel switched off Rousseau's lights and turned the 'open' sign to 'closed'.

"I didn't want to embarrass her in front of her boyfriend."

Rebekah swept the remnants of broken glass and dust into the bin.

"I think you did _that_ with your interrogation," she sighed.

Marcel threw his arms up mimicking Klaus' famous stance.

"She's lucky it was me. If Klaus were here, he'd have thrown him out the door by his ear."

Rebekah put away the broom and poured two gin martinis.

"I remember when you confessed your love to me. Klaus _daggered me_ because he could not harm you. He kept daggering me whenever I disappointed him. That's no way to live. Hope needs our trust, more than our judgement," Rebekah pressed, "Especially now."

Marcel held his martini, "I've had my share of awkward sex conversations with Davina, and Josh, if Hope has questions, but something is nagging me about Rafael's linage, just can't think what," he furrowed his brow.

_Marcel remembered the massacre of '91, and Hayley in her crib... _

_His memories skipped ahead to the night he saved baby Hope from Genevieve and the ancestors. He gave his sister to Klaus, glimpsing his look of adoration, knowing his own life and death was a disappointment - calling Mikael, with intentions to free Rebekah from Klaus, but which only strained their father/son relationship, and continued their toxic cycle of betrayals. _

_The prize? New Orleans._

"All those years after Dumas' rise to power, and his tyranny made me understand the monster I'd become, and I regret the culls, and the pain I caused generations of wolves... they were part of Hayley's pack, Hope's family and I had them cursed, justifying it as a necessary step to power, to weaken my enemies… I'm not King of New Orleans, I never was."

Rebekah did not stop him from reaching for the gin bottle, but she did remind him of another vampire, who raised Marcel in his image, and whose insecurities and jealousies shrouded all attempts of a truce, until son and daughter were reunited.

"Don't say that, Marcel. You are part of New Orleans, as much as any of us. It is our home, our past, and our future. Klaus would not have Hope if it weren't for Hayley, and you gave her a childhood. She was 13 when her adoptive parents kicked her out after she triggered her werewolf curse."

Marcel sat on the bar stool, "I asked Kieran to find a suitable family. I did not expect to see her again… amidst another war between species."

Rebekah washed their empty glasses under the hot tap and dried them with a tea towel.

She continued, "Hayley found the Appalachian Mountain pack, and helped Tyler break his sire-bond. She betrayed Tyler by telling Klaus the truth after making a deal with Silas, all in her attempts to find her biological family. Klaus recognised her Crescent birth mark, and you know the rest. Seeing you with Davina and Josh cemented how much of a leader you are, and it's that man I fell in love with."

Marcel reached for Rebekah's hand, and brought her to stand in front of him.

"So, Mrs Gerard, we're just supposed to let Hope learn from her own mistakes?"

Rebekah wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, a thought bursting from her lips.

"And teach her about safe-sex. I wonder if Hayley ever taught Hope how to roll a condom?"

Marcel swayed them on the spot, "That's all we need, another Mikaelson," he joked.

* * *

**2029: The Salvatore Boarding House**

Hope stood in the corridor with her books, knowing she would not see Josie made it harder to move. She missed Kol, and the unpredictability of the war. It was like she'd been pulled out of a movie right before the end and placed into another without knowing the plot. She felt out of place, and it wasn't because she had borrowed some of Lizzie's clothes that morning.

Her classmates bustled around the dorms oblivious to her mental crisis. Hope found herself in the common room where Kaleb and Pedro played chess. She saw Penelope and Alyssa practicing magic in their circle and regretted getting out of bed. Lizzie had been excused from class, because everyone in this timeline believed Josie had died, after shattering the _Mora Miserium_, or _Sandclock_: a tool used by certain sects of witches to withhold the ill effects of dark magic.

Only some knew about their real timeline – Bonnie, Davina, Freya, Kol, Lizzie and their friends, Rafael, Landon, MG. Hope wished she could convince the rest of her school that being anchored to The Hollow was not Josie's end, but her beginning, and if Hope could survive, Josie could too.

Hope sighed, wishing she could collapse into one of the lounges and sleep off her anxieties until Josie returned. Hope remembered her talk with Bonnie a few days ago, about moving on. She knew it would be healthier to put the past/present behind her, but it wasn't in Hope's nature. Her family tragedies made her the person she was today – resilient, brave, persistent, caring.

Moving on meant letting Josie go, so her heart could heal from the trauma.

This was her struggle.

It was Rafael's "Hope," which distracted her. "Can I carry your books?" He took her bag, and Hope took his offered hand, looking again at the ray of sunlight illuminating the staircase, and imagined Josie in her blue tartan skirt, with her clipboard in hand at the top. "You okay?"

Hope nodded, "Yeah, just missing Josie," she admitted.

Rafael squeezed her hand, gently. "Understandable."

* * *

**Lockwood Manor**

Lizzie met with Freya; it was Aunt Bonnie who suggested it, a week after their return. Hope spent her days with Rafael, causing Lizzie to either third-wheel or retreat to her room where she would try on Josie's clothes, and call on Josie's hologram through Hope's crystals to keep herself from getting too lonely. It was her reoccurring night terrors that concerned her father.

Lizzie's visions were getting more vivid and more frequent.

She wished she saw Josie, and not misty forests filled with hooded figures.

There were three figures in red capes, running… where to, Lizzie had no idea.

Freya was not what Lizzie expected, she wore a leather jacket over her blue singlet top which draped loosely around her navy jeans. Her serene green eyes were framed by blond wavy locks. Freya was a first born Mikaelson witch, who was kidnapped by her aunt Dahlia, and spent centuries in a coffin, allowed only one day of freedom – Lizzie paused her trail of thought, noticing a mop-haired Muppet sitting on the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" she narrowed her eyes.

Landon shrugged, "MG couldn't make it. He said you needed a friend."

Freya smiled, and led the way into the study.

"Let's start, Landon I need you to hold Lizzie's hand…"

Lizzie snatched Landon's hesitant hand into her grasp out of sheer annoyance of his mere being.

"Excellent, as a fellow seer, we can draw on energies of others, as well as share our visions with others. If MG were here, vampires can draw memories if they desire them. Landon, we are still learning your abilities, per se, but for the sake of our social experiment, you remain our power source, but please raise your hand if you feel you are tired or need a rest at any point."

"Will do," Landon agreed.

"Lizzie, I need you to focus only on _your_ visions, I will project myself into them, to 'see' the faces of your demons. If you feel dizzy, or suffer headaches, or nosebleeds, just let go of my hand, okay?"

"Okay," Lizzie nodded, a weird mixture of apprehensiveness and exhilaration.

Lizzie closed her eyes, recalling the visions, one by one, siphoning Landon's powers into her body – this created a warmth through her body. She saw the red capes billowing in the wind, and the three hooded figures stopped running to perch themselves on the edge of what looked like a black lake. Lizzie saw something emerge from the water; its face unrecognisable by any angle she tried.

A ghostly figure stood on the opposite side of the lake, an imprint of Hope's aunt.

"Freya," Lizzie murmured, confused by the new layer to her vision.

Lizzie watched as the hooded figures offered their assistance, pulling a smaller person from the lake.

"Who is it?" Landon grimaced.

"I can't see, their whole body is covered in mud," Freya whispered.

Lizzie could feel Landon's hand sweating in hers, disgusting her more than usual.

"Mud? Like Malivore mud?" Landon whispered, suddenly nervous.

Lizzie stared at the figure; the mud resembled thick black oil which fell to the grass in globs.

A hood slipped from one of the figures, and they turned to someone in the shadows, someone who had been behind Hope's decision to enter Malivore to begin with – The Necromancer.

It was at this point when the Necromancer's eyes locked on Lizzie's, but there was no way, no way in Hell, he could see her, could he?

Lizzie felt faint, and her hand slipped from Landon's, her body would have crashed to the floor, if it had not been for his superhero reflexes, which when she woke, she would thank him, or murder him - it was partly his fault that Malivore existed, she thought, before darkness engulfed her.

"I think that's enough for today," Freya said, brandishing smelling salts beneath Lizzie's nose.

* * *

**The Salvatore Boarding School**

That night, Hope hooked her arm on Lizzie's, as they lay in their 'cry pile' missing Josie.

"Do you think she remembers us?" Hope asked.

"I think she barely knows herself," Lizzie murmured.

Hope wiped her tears from her face.

"I'm scared I'm going to forget her, like everyone else," Hope whispered.

Lizzie stared at the stars they'd made twinkle in their room which mirrored the night sky.

"I think I've been seeing Josie," Lizzie said, in a distant whisper.

Hope listened to Rafael's light snores beside her, his book had fallen off his chest.

"We were inside a bunker covered with screens. The Hollow was talking to a man in a suit. Then I saw troves of ancient artefacts, some in boxes, others free-standing in a large warehouse, and I heard her feet echoing down concrete for ages..."

Hope furrowed her brows, it sounded familiar, "What else?"

"We were high up and Josie held a skull jaw, and a long skinny bone. There was another exchange with the man, then he bled from the inside out, and something strange happened-"

Rafael stirred, and reached for his book, "Stranger than a man bleeding inside out?"

Lizzie ignored him, "The spell lifted. The Hollow jumped into the oil – and I _felt _Josie fall, I _heard _her screams. I_ drowned _in the oil. I think Josie's really gone, and the man let her fall."

Rafael rubbed his eyes, "Why can't you both have dreams about unicorns?" he complained.

Hope returned his book to him with a wry smile. "Because life isn't a fairy-tale, Raf."

"Don't I know it," Rafael opened _The Philosopher's Stone_ and began to read.

MG piped up from the floor, "Wait, we're not at Hogwarts?" he mock gasped, knocking his stack of Harry Potter books across the carpet. "You know, I'd get this done faster if I had bourbon."

Lizzie raised her arms to the faux sky, "Thank god Bonnie gave me an extension."

Hope watched Rafael flick through the chapters. "Lucky you, wish I'd started it days ago."

Landon stumbled into the doorway, "Study snacks! Ice-cream and baileys! Pedro hand them out. We've got mint choc-chip, double chocolate, boysenberry, salted caramel, and blood bags for MG-"

Lizzie caught sight of a third person behind Landon and sat bolt upright.

"What the hell is _she_ doing here?" she hissed at Penelope's dry smile.

Landon looked over his shoulder, "Penelope? Uh, I ran into her in the kitchen."

Penelope threw MG the blood bags in her hand. MG ripped the seal and began to drink with fervour. Penelope sent him a satisfied look, as if seeing the way his eyes grew dark, turned her on.

"Are you two _flirting_?" Lizzie almost gagged on the sentence.

Hope and Rafael watched with bated breath as Penelope smirked, "I've got better things to do. Of course, MG is welcome to join me, at the old Lockwood Manor. Some of us are having a real party, you know, to blow off steam before mid-terms. I'd invite you all, but you all look _so cute_ together."

Rafael turned to Hope, the thought of blowing off study excited him. Alaric would not want them off campus with everything going on, Hope thought, but then again, maybe a party would distract her from missing Josie. Hope used her best pout on Lizzie, who forced herself from the bed with a groan.

"Fine, but I'm only doing this to keep an eye on MG."

* * *

Rafael guided Landon back to his room, so they could get changed. Landon did not look keen.

"Are you serious _Rafi_? You'd rather hang out with a bunch of drunk witches right now?"

Rafael pulled off his shirt, which had sweat marks under his arms, and borrowed one of Landon's shirts, pausing to get affirmation it looked okay, before he glanced at his reflection in the mirror.

"No, I want to hang out with _my girl_. Why don't you come for the moral support, or to mingle?"

Rafael wiggled his eyebrows, making Landon throw his head back in exasperation.

"Considering I can't even remember my last girlfriend, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Rafael sighed, "Come on Lands, when's the last time we hung out? I miss you, bro."

Landon hugged Rafael, "I miss you too. You sure? I don't want to third wheel your date with Hope."

Rafael opened his wallet, checked it had some cash for beer in it, and put it in his back pocket.

"Trust me, you won't. Lizzie's glued to Hope if anything you'll be fourth wheeling."

"Awesome," Landon grimaced as Rafael chuckled.

Before they passed Lizzie and Hope's dorm, Rafael tapped on the door frame.

"MG?" Raf queried, "You coming…?"

MG had squeezed every droplet of blood from the bags, his demon eyes bloodshot.

Rafael was reminded of Landon's death and resurrection, and how much it had hurt to see his brother _dead_. Hope had comforted him in their grief. He wondered how much of that night MG and Landon remembered. He shook it from his thoughts and repeated his question.

MG shut his eyes tight and muttered something under his breath.

Two seconds later he clapped Rafael on the shoulder.

"Last one there is a rotten egg," MG vamp-sped off, with Landon dawdling behind.

Lizzie joined Landon, and Rafael turned to find Hope dressed in something out of the 80s.

"Whose wardrobe did you raid this time?" he smirked.

"Lizzie's, she leant me some clothes, since everything of mine was burned, remember?"

"That was a stupid idea," he murmured taking a step towards her.

"Yeah, I know that _now_…" she said, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

Rafael touched her gold hooped earrings. "Is it bad, I kind of don't wanna leave now?" he said, pulling her waist towards him and resting his forehead against hers.

Hope leaned into him, hugging him close, and enjoying their moment of peace.

"Not bad, cunning maybe. You sure you're a Gryffindor?" she joked.

Rafael knew where she was going, and before she could utter the word, _Slytherin_, he'd kissed her.

They fell through the doorway; Hope flicked her wrist and the door locked.

Rafael grinned, impressed, and picked Hope up, her legs snug around his waist. He deposited her on the bed, removing his t-shirt, fuelled with teenage hormones. Hope kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his flushed neck. He heard Hope's breath hitch in her lungs, but their desire to go further was interrupted by the turn of a page, so quiet they could have mistaken it for the wind, if it had not been the scrape of a spoon against an empty chocolate icecream tub.

"_Pedro_?!"

Rafael flung himself from Hope and fell backward off the bed.

Pedro looked up from the book, "Hey."

"How long have you been sitting there?" Hope asked, wiping saliva from her lips.

Rafael pulled his t-shirt back on, he could still hear Hope's heartbeats thumping in unison to his.

"Remind me to check for Peeping Pedros, next time?" he muttered to Hope.

"About ten minutes. I didn't want the icecream to go to waste."

"You make a point," Hope said. "Pass me the salted caramel."

Rafael sat on the edge of the bed, with his choc-mint icecream his knees touching Hope's in a soft, comforting way. The coolness of the icecream helped to steer his mind back to safer territories. He plucked his shirt from his abs and attempted to cool down both physically and mentally. Hope seemed to be in another world entirely, deep in conversation with Pedro about Sheila's grimoires.

"Kol, Bonnie and Davina won't let me in the library, so I asked Pedro to snoop. What did you find?"

Pedro coaxed light from a nearby lamp and let it shine on the wall opposite them. Shadows emerged, like mist - Pedro's magic was the strongest of all coven witches, bar Hope's, as Bennett blood ran through his veins. Rafael watched in awe, as the mist resembled faces.

"Sheila and Lenore were in conversation for decades, about their lives, and _The Hollow_. There was a link between you and Josie, remember? Davina said, 'without Labonair blood, Josie could not be freed', but you healed Josie during the Triad invasion. Lenore speculated The Hollow's disappearance was linked to Josie regaining control of her mind, body, and soul. From 1953-1991, both vanished for a period, until 1991 when Richard Dumas resumed his tirade-"

Rafael finished his tub of icecream, groaning from the sudden brain freeze.

"Malivore…" Hope guessed.

She pictured Lizzie's dream: the bunker with tiny screens, the man in a suit, the oil that wasn't oil.

Josie had remembered a place which took memories away and erased monsters; a place that could take away her pain and protect the present. She had tried her best to fix their timeline and discovered a way to escape her prison simultaneously.

"If _you_ can return from Malivore, your friend Josie can too," Pedro said.

Hope let her shoulders relax, and she nodded, believing it was true.

"You know, you could still make the party, before my mum shuts it down," Pedro mused.

Hope grabbed Rafael's hand and dragged him outside, her mind buzzing in excitement.

"We have to find Lizzie!"

* * *

Penelope stood by the beer keg, red cup in hand, subject to Alyssa's rant about how Jed ignored her all day. Penelope was far too concerned with how she was crushing on Lizzie. She had no clue where these feelings had accumulated, and she could not concentrate. The only way to discard them was to go after someone she had no feelings for –

Penelope's eyes lit up, as MG entered the grounds of Lockwood Manor.

"MG, you made it!" she beamed.

MG nodded, pointing over his shoulder, "Yeah, Raf's coming too, and Hope, and Lizzie."

"And me," Landon nodded from behind them.

"You know Alyssa," Penelope exchanged friends, taking MG. "I need to borrow him."

Penelope stopped behind a stone pillar, pulling her hair to the side of her pale neck.

"I know blood bags do nothing for your appetite, so I thought I'd offer you something _else_."

MG stared at Penelope, taking a few steps back, unnerved.

"Are you crazy? I can't control myself. I _killed_ Landon last time I fed on human blood."

Penelope rolled her eyes to the starry night sky.

"Haven't you heard of immunity? I won't let you drain me."

Penelope kissed him, tasting his recent snack, wiping the blood from her mouth. It was at this moment she locked eyes onto Lizzie's horrified gaze, and practically heard her say: _"Oh, hell no." _

Penelope felt MG's lips attack hers. His eyes darkened with lust, and his fangs elongated. She winced as he bit her neck. He dug his hands into her shoulders. She felt her eyelids flutter, her mind grew dark, and she gasped, "MG… _stop_."

* * *

He was lost in ecstasy

The music pounded his head, her body fell limp in his arms

He thought he heard his name, but his thirst was insatiable

Warm sticky blood gushed down his throat, face, and cheeks

_He was the archer, and she was his prey_

* * *

He could not hear Lizzie's shouts, nor feel her nails dig into his wrist but he did see images flash through his mind in quick succession.

He saw Josie through Penelope's eyes - a girl with buns and blue ribbons, her smile, like sunshine during a storm. She carried a clipboard and stood in the Lizzie's shadow. Penelope stole kisses when nobody was looking and professed her tragic love…

"JoJo," MG lifted his fangs from Penelope's neck, aghast. "Not again, no!"

History was repeating, and he wanted to run from Lizzie's pitiful look.

"I didn't mean to; the bloodlust was too much. She said she'd stop me. _Why didn't she?"_

Lizzie watched MG raise his hands to his head, pacing back and forth, as the rest of the party noticed them, some screamed, and others hurried to see. Lizzie hated Penelope but seeing her the life fade from her body only made everything more dire. If Penelope died, it could force MG to turn off his humanity switch, and she could lose him forever.

"MG, she needs you still. You need to give her some of your blood; vampire blood heals."

MG steadied his nerves, and rapid breaths, and dropped to his knees.

He remembered when he lay paralysed on the football field, seeing Kaleb's stern gaze above him.

Lizzie pointed to his wrist, and lifted Penelope's head, encouraging MG to help her.

There was a collective gasp, and students scattered as an original vampire appeared.

Kol Mikaelson saw the desperation in MG's eyes, reminiscent of another Ripper, but instead of Penelope, Davina Claire lay in his arms, after the ancestors cursed him to have a voracious thirst for her. Kol knew what it felt like to lose control, he also knew what was required to save a life.

MG and Lizzie froze when Kol dropped to his knees and gave them his consent.

"As someone who spent a century in a coffin, and had no control over my bloodlust, I am not the best vampire to give advice, but sometimes I wish I had a mentor to help me through it. Being a vampire isn't glorious. Bloodlust doesn't go away, and if you don't know how to deal with it, the next time you crave human blood – it could be your brother, friend, or lover, that pays the price."

MG thought he heard Penelope's last breath as he let his blood seep into her open mouth.

* * *

Bonnie gave the Lockwood manor a haunting look. Being back there stirred memories, long forgotten of the Salvatore brothers, the ancestors, and Klaus Mikaelson. It seemed like another lifetime ago when they were sixteen and Elena first began dating Stefan Salvatore. Little did they know how much their lives would change, and how many of them would make it out alive.

Hope and Rafael arrived, hand in hand, dishevelled and out of breath.

Lizzie shot them a glare, as if she knew exactly what they had been doing with their time.

Landon's eyes fell on their entwined hands, and came to the same conclusion, his face fell.

Kol placed his hand on MG's shoulder, "Another five minutes and we'd have been too late."

MG breathed a sigh of relief, sweat dripping from his brow, as Penelope's chest rose.

Penelope touched her blood-stained mouth. "What happened?" she asked, confused.

"MG almost ate you for dinner, that's what happened." Lizzie retorted.

Penelope took MG's hand, glancing at Kol, and the nosy bystanders awed by her resurrection.

Bonnie Bennett's formidable entrance sent chills through the partygoers.

The Headmaster sent students to dispose of the litter, empty beer kegs, and pack away speakers. Everyone received detention, and everyone would be picking up litter in Mystic Falls.

"Kol, you are the only ripper I know, who could help MG find his true potential. Davina and I both agree, you will be his mentor."

Kol dusted the dirt from his pants. "And do I get paid for this?"

"You get a nice roof over your head, and the promise I won't set you alight again."

Bonnie heard Alyssa turn to Jed, "So, _he_ gets a mentor, but Jade, Wendy and Sebastian are sent to the prison world. Talk about double standards," she huffed.

Bonnie shared a concerned look with Kol.

"Children should be taught how to control their gifts, that is why we turned the Salvatore Boarding House into a school. Now," she said. "I will be speaking with Alaric and Dorian, until then, explain to me, Alyssa, where you heard this dangerous rumour, and what you know of the prison world?"

Alyssa raised her chin and spoke loudly for the entire vicinity to hear.

"I overheard a conversation with Alaric and Emma, before you were Headmaster."

There was no way Caroline approved it, Bonnie thought.

Bonnie cleared her throat, "Who can tell me who currently resides in the 1994 prison world?"

It was Lizzie who raised her hand, for she and Josie had helped imprison him there.

"Kai Parker, my uncle, who murdered my bio-mum, and her whole family," Lizzie answered.

Bonnie nodded, solemnly, still haunted by his name.

"Correct. Some of you may not know I was imprisoned there for months with him."

Bonnie raised her shirt, showing two healed scars.

"This was when he stabbed me with an arrow, and this is when he stabbed me with a knife, both times because I kept him from something he wanted. You think you know evil, but these monsters we've been fighting, are nothing compared to Kai Parker. I hope to Merlin, what you overheard, Alyssa, was not real, but thank you for bringing it to my attention, for if children were sent to the Prison world, then I would not want anyone privy to this teaching at my school."

Bonnie added, "It's past curfew. Go. Detention will be at 1pm."

Kol nodded to Hope, and Rafael, glad they had missed most of the drama, and wondered if Davina's night had been any better than his. He watched the students return to the school in dribs and drabs, impressed by Bonnie's ability to control a bunch of underage supernaturals. He would never admit it to her face, but he was kind of fond of Bonnie Bennett.

* * *

There was a woosh of an arrow, which Kol heard, and caught, his reflexes as good as ever.

"Deja-vu," he muttered. "Little Gilbert." Kol snapped the arrow in two.

Jeremy grimaced, "I thought you were dead-" his crossbow still raised.

Kol shrugged, "No thanks to you-"

Alaric ignored their exchange, "What the hell happened?" he demanded of Bonnie.

Bonnie frowned. "A party. Ric, we need to talk-"

Alaric pointed at Penelope drenched in her own blood, "You. Explain. Now."

Bonnie raised her voice, "- about the Prison world, and the students you and Emma sent there without my, nor Caroline's, knowledge. We trusted you to run this school..."

She felt she had failed those children, and now Alaric's interference sent Kai a key to escape the prison world altogether, by siphoning each child's power for himself.

Alaric sighed, "They broke our rules, and it was the only way we could keep the deaths in Mystic Falls to a minimum. In case you've forgotten, we no longer have friends in the Sheriff department."

She felt as though the man standing in front of her was just a shell of the person she once trusted.

"You were supposed to help them control their power, not punish them for it!" Bonnie hissed.

Alaric sheathed his gun, filled with vervain-bullets from his recent recruitment trip.

"They were a danger to the school and the public. I do not regret it."

Bonnie thought of Lizzie, and the vampire she had spent some time with before her disappearance.

"And Sebastian? He was not a student, yet you punished him all the same."

Alaric's anger grew, "I gave him a chance to leave on his own terms. He made his choice."

Lizzie returned with MG, having heard her father's voice.

Sebastian ghosting her suddenly made sense.

"_You sent Sebastian to the Prison world with psychotic Uncle Kai_?"

Alaric massaged the bridge of his nose, "He was taking advantage of you, Lizzie! He's dangerous."

Words failed her, trying to sift through memories of their last encounter. She had almost forgotten his sultry voice when he spoke her name; his charming blue eyes; his tragic love affair with Cassandra. Even if it had not been true love, he had swept her off her feet, enough to feel what it could be like to be loved…

MG interrupted their conversation, "You never sent me there? I'm a Ripper."

"We supply a diet of bunny blood and blood bags for a reason, MG, to keep you weak," Alaric muttered.

Kol raised his arms, aware of Jeremy's trained eye but trusted Bonnie's instincts.

"Caroline married a reformed Ripper, if you remember. It was in 1920 when Stefan met Rebekah and formed a friendship with Klaus. Caroline was the ONLY vampire who switched off her humanity and remained in control of her kills. If anyone could teach MG, in Stefan's and Caroline's absence, it is Kol. He has my blessing, and as Headmaster, that is enough."

Jeremy frowned, but dropped his crossbow, and gave Bonnie a curt nod.

* * *

Bonnie kicked off her flats, and climbed into bed, relieved to find her husband safely inside. She wondered if he knew of Alaric's misdeeds, and whether he would admit to them. She pulled up the covers and stared at the back of Dorian's head, until he, without opening his eyes, said:

"What's on your mind, Bonnie?"

She sighed, "Did you know Ric sent a bunch of our kids to the Prison World?"

Dorian turned over to face her concerned expression, shaking his head. "He what…?"

"What I said, can you imagine Ric sending Pedro there because he couldn't handle him on a bad day? I have to get them back, even if it means facing Kai Parker."

Dorian threw his blankets from his bed. "Let me pay Ric my respects," he said.

Bonnie lay her hand on his knee, "I love you for that, but right now, I need you to hold me."

Dorian reluctantly pushed his rage aside, and hugged her, then kissed her head.

"I might only be human, but if Kai Parker turns up here, I will kill him."

* * *

Lizzie could hear voices coming from the library, probably Davina and Bonnie discussing their party at the old Lockwood Manor, she thought nothing of it as she brought cookies from the kitchen. Hope was busy with Rafael. MG was off with Kaleb and Kol, learning how not to be a Ripper, which left her playing charades with Pedro and Landon, and it was her turn to get snacks.

It was the 'seriously?' that made her turn around, because apart from Josie, there was only one other person who did that – their mother, Caroline Forbes-Salvatore.

Lizzie moved towards Bonnie's office door left slightly ajar.

"We are certain that Josie is alive, just in another dimension," Freya said.

Davina nodded, "Josie took Inadu to Malivore in 1953, and The Hollow returned in 1991."

Freya continued, "The Hollow is dead, we think she died in 1991, and as her bones were hidden, The Hollow was never resurrected, so a timeline could exist where Klaus and Elijah remain alive. Which means, there's a chance Hayley is too, however playing with time is a dangerous affair, as we know."

Lizzie guessed they had just opened another bottle of champagne as the cork hit the door.

"We can't go back, but we think Josie is jumping though time using Malivore. We know she entered Malivore in 1953, and if speculation is correct, Malivore released her due to having Hope's blood in her system, and from Lizzie's visions, she may have emerged in the 1994 Prison World."

"Kai Parker," Caroline realized, dropping her glass on the floor.

Lizzie could not stay behind closed doors forever.

"Mum?" she said, feeling hot tears falling down her paled cheeks. "Is it true? Is Josie trapped there?"

Caroline rose from her chair and hugged her daughter with a fierce promise.

"We'll bring her home," she whispered against Lizzie's heavy sobs. "Don't you worry."

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, feel free to tell me which parts had you on the edge of your seats. Follow me on Twitter for sneak peeks, polls, and chapter updates. If you could guess the endgames for this fic, who would you choose? Re: using HP books in this - Trans Lives Matter, and I do not condone JKR's transphobia, she is dead to me and the franchise is now owned by the fandom. Chapter 8 is currently in progress. Reviews make me happy x**


	8. The Prison World

**Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowed and nurtured. A/N: This may take some time, pardon the pun. To 'kadem' who asked why I made Kol 'weak'. Kol isn't weak. He didn't want to take out 1942 Marcel, because he would change the timeline. He was being cautious and didn't want to jeopardise his relationship with Hope, Lizzie, or Josie. Thank you for the reviews, favs and follows. Aiming to finish this story by ch10 x**

**viii**

_I stopped waiting_

_for the light at the _

_end of the tunnel &_

_lit that bitch up _

_myself_

– _mama disrupt_

* * *

**2029: Salvatore Boarding House**

Caroline walked down the halls of the Salvatore Boarding House, each of its many rooms, a time capsule to the past. She passed Stefan's room, imagining him journaling until sunset. His things now in storage or on display in his Memorial Library. He had died a hero, protecting his family, and she would love him forever. Mystic Falls would never forget the sacrifice he made, nor would she.

But she would always yearn for the life they could have had.

Losing Stefan, almost broke her, but she never let her daughters see that.

She passed Damon's room, now Bonnie and Dorian's quarters. Their wedding was held in the town square; Josie and Lizzie were flower girls. Damon and Elena returned with their daughter, Emma from Atlanta. Caroline honoured Stefan's legacy by opening a school for the supernaturally gifted.

Caroline sat in front of the fireplace, lost in a lifetime of memories.

… she remembered when Pedro, Bonnie's son was born.

… when she met Emma Stefanie Salvatore for the first time.

… she pictured Lexi and Stefan dancing to Bon Jovi in the afterlife – she'd join them, someday.

Caroline wiped fresh tears from her cheeks.

She had tried to find a loophole to the Gemini merge but returned empty handed. She returned for Lizzie, believing Josie was dead, that the darkness in the Sandclock consumed her, but she was unprepared to learn the truth.

They were living an alternate reality where Josie disappeared in Malivore and reappeared in the 1994 Prison world. Caroline found comfort in Lizzie's arms, neither one knowing they were each other's strength. Life had been filled with tragedies, and miracles, but her heart was heavy, if Kai were to escape the Prison World, history would repeat, and it would be catastrophic on their lives.

"We'll bring her home. Don't you worry," Caroline whispered to a distraught Lizzie.

Footsteps caused them to break apart. It was Alaric, duffel bag in hand.

"They told you," he guessed.

Caroline knew losing Jo had broken a part of him, but she barely recognised the man in front of her.

"You should have called me, Ric. We could have come up with a plan together."

Alaric sighed, "I did what I thought was right in your absence."

Caroline walked up to him, disappointed: "No, you did what was easy."

Alaric looked at them, "I understand if you don't want me here."

Caroline frowned, "You put our students in danger. You handed Kai the key to escape. Do you think I wanted to leave our girls? You left me no choice."

Alaric scratched his beard flecked with grey hairs.

"I've left Jeremy and Kol instructions," he opened the door.

Lizzie threw herself forward, "You can't just leave!_ We need you here._"

Alaric avoided her gaze, "Your mother will protect you now."

Caroline received Lizzie's desperate glance as the door was pulled shut.

"You could have stopped him."

Caroline sighed, "It was his decision. We'll find Josie. I promise."

"How?" Lizzie flopped onto the step, defeated.

Caroline held her hand, "With Hope, intuition, and a little bit of pixie dust," she smiled.

Lizzie sighed, looking up to see Freya and Davina, their arms full of heavy grimoires from the library.

"We just have to find the right spell," Davina said, spreading them out on the table.

Caroline, Freya, and Davina searched through the books, whilst Lizzie went to get Hope.

* * *

Ryan Clarke straightened his tie; first impressions were crucial for a job interview.

He watched the iron gates to the Salvatore School close, after a truck drove by.

The driver had paused, his window down, and Clarke caught the man's solemn expression.

"Excuse me? Is this where I find Caroline Forbes, Uh, the Salvatore Boarding School?"

The man gave him a curt nod and pointed back up the driveway. "She's expecting you."

The man declined reading Clarke's credentials, and drove on.

Clarke had unfinished business with The Necromancer, based on Josie's terms. Besides, it might even put him back in his Father's good graces – the perfect plan, and he missed Landon.

When the door swung open, Clarke was faced with a tall blond woman with a fierce expression.

"Hi, I have an interview with Miss Forbes? I'm early, something my father regarded highly."

Freya pursed her lips, "My name is Freya, Freya Mikaelson. I'll take you to her."

Clarke stepped over the threshold. He saw groups of children huddled around the school, some studying, others using their recreational time to play cards, and practice their superpowers. Hope was nowhere to be seen, neither was Landon. He was shown into the Headmaster's office and sat. Freya offered him coffee, which he agreed to, it had been a long journey.

"Caroline will be with you shortly," she said, closing the door.

There were muffled voices on the other side of the door. Clarke rose from his seat to straighten the headmaster plaque, and noticed some student files on the desk, belonging to Wendy, Jade and Sebastian. His eyes hooked onto some books and he pulled at the titles – _Othello_. It was then, that the door opened, and Clarke smiled, commenting on the story.

"One of my favourites," he declared. "Iago was a cunning character. Here is my resume."

Caroline seemed distracted, but she sat opposite him and skimmed his resume with her finger.

"Professor Clarke, I can see you are an experienced educator and have a love of Greek mythology. The children would benefit with you as their History teacher. The probation period is a week, then you can decide if you would like to stay long term. I'm aware that a supernatural school of gifted children isn't everyone's dream, but we could really use the help."

Clarke smiled, "I'm not a quitter, Miss Forbes."

Caroline corrected him. "Forbes-Salvatore. I was married and widowed on my wedding day."

"Oh, I'm sorry, forgive me, of course, you and Stefan Salvatore?" Clarke studied her.

Caroline nodded, "My husband sacrificed himself to save Mystic Falls."

Clarke nodded. "I remember, I'm sorry it slipped my mind."

Freya returned with Clarke's coffee. He thanked her, admiring the talisman around her neck.

"Classes resume at nine. Can you tell me a little more about your curriculum Mr Clarke?"

Clarke nodded, and burnt his lip on the beverage, spilling coffee down his shirt.

Caroline handed him a bunch of tissues, as he apologised for the spill, mopping himself clean.

Clarke noticed stains on his red tie, "I was so sure this was a clean tie."

Caroline looked up to see Jeremy watching from the door.

"Jeremy, could you please show Clarke to his quarters, and find him a spare shirt?"

Jeremy Gilbert nodded, "Sure, just to let you know, we've gone through that stuff Kol asked for, and we need more, so I'm going to Whitmore with Dorian. Bonnie's working on the other thing, and the wolves need more wolfsbane, it's a full moon tonight."

Caroline sighed, avoiding Clarke's look of concern. "Okay," she sighed. "I'll find some."

Clarke finished his coffee, and followed Jeremy up to his rooms, pulling his tie from his neck.

Lizzie watched from below, determined to discover his secrets.

* * *

**1994, Prison World**

Josie struggled to break the gloopy black surface of Malivore. She expelled mud from her lungs, determined to evade it once and for all. Her cries were stifled, her arms flailed, and she began to sink, doomed to isolation once more. Hands grabbed her, dragging her from her from the darkness where she rasped, "Where am I?"

Three hooded figures stood over her, their voices…. familiar. _Were they friends or foe?_

Sebastian returned his hands to his pockets, "Hell."

Jade punched him in the arm. "The Prison World," she said.

Josie frowned. "Which year?" she had to be sure.

Wendy pulled a crossword puzzle from her back pocket, "1994."

Somewhat relieved, Josie gave her dress a good shake and saw Jade smiling back at her.

"You're not little Josie, anymore," Jade noted.

Josie remembered being in awe of Jade and Wendy, watching them unleash themselves without fear or judgement and she felt ashamed she had never once thought about their whereabouts since believing her father's lies. They looked the same. Jade had gold curls that framed her face, and a warmness in her eyes. Wendy was like a pixie with brunette buns, and Sebastian was tall and mysterious, no wonder Lizzie fell for him.

"Don't tell me your dad expelled you to this godforsaken place too?" Jade asked.

Another figure emerged from the shadows; his hood slipped to reveal The Necromancer.

Josie was exactly _when _she needed to be, Malivore had kept his promise, after all.

"Josie Saltzman, what brings you to my abode?" The Necromancer asked.

Josie stood tall, "I'm looking for a way home." She was not afraid of him.

There was a chuckle belonging to a haggard man whose eyes resembled her own.

"You and me both, Josette 2.0," Kai Parker smiled. "And you just gave me the key."

Josie studied Kai, a pathetic version of the monster from her dreams; the sociopath who murdered the entire Gemini Coven, including her biological family. She should have been scared, but she had faced Malivore, and she wasn't the same Josie as she was in 1942.

"Malivore is a Hell dimension. It's eternal darkness. You'll be trapped and alone." Josie warned.

Kai's eyes twinkled, "Good, better for everybody if they forget me, better for you."

Kai pushed through Jade, Wendy, and Sebastian, standing on the edge of another dimension.

Josie frowned, "You caused so much pain, Uncle Kai, and for what… _power_?"

Kai shrugged, "They deserved it, after what they did to me."

Sebastian shoved Kai back towards the house, "Spare us your sob story, Malachai, all of us have suffered. You were banished here because you obliterated your own coven. Lizzie told me everything, and I won't let you hurt her or her sister. So, sit the fuck back down."

Kai attempted to punch Sebastian, both vamping out, much to Jade and Wendy's delight.

Wendy's finished her crossword fell from her hand, and Josie noticed the entries had been scribbled over more than once. Josie looked to The Necromancer, who looked as enthralled as the others.

"Chaos, it's what you feed on, like Malivore, you crave power, death, anguish," Josie noted. "Why them? What is it that each of us contributes to your cause? You're bidding your time, aren't you? There's something you want here, something you've always wanted." Josie guessed.

"Josie's right, you promised us our freedom weeks ago."

Jade's eyes turned bloodshot, and she wrapped her fingers tight around the Necromancer's throat.

The Necromancer grinned, "You cannot kill me, _sweet child_."

Sebastian stole Kai's whiskey and threw it at The Necromancer's feet.

"Not alone," Wendy set the whiskey on fire with a flick of her wrist, "But together…" she warned.

The Necromancer spluttered, "Tomorrow, we will leave this forsaken place. You have my word."

Jade helped Kai to his feet. "Fine by me," she said, as Wendy took Josie's hand.

They entered the Salvatore Boarding House, and Josie saw how it used to be before the renovation. She saw the fireplace, the portraits and landscapes, the staircase, and red carpet which led to the piano nobody ever played. She half wished to see Damon and Stefan, but they weren't part of this imitation world. She missed Lizzie, and Hope, and an overwhelming sea of grief washed over her.

Jade bumped her shoulder, "Why don't you tell us your story? It can't be worse than ours, can it?"

* * *

The Necromancer picked up the newspaper headlined: _Family murdered in Oregon. _Josie had only scratched the surface. His plan was to coax the darkness out of her, the parts the Hollow had left behind. He needed Kai to convince Josie and Jade to own the darkest parts of themselves before he aided their escape – that power he would use to defeat Malivore, for good.

Kai pulled a strange metal object from his coat pocket, half put together.

Sebastian quenched his thirst with a blood bag that made Josie feel queasy.

"That's the ascendant," she distracted herself, shocked to see it not in the box in her dad's office.

Kai frowned, "It is, but it's practically useless without _Bennett_ blood," he added.

Josie let a thought worry her – Kai would need Bonnie, or Pedro's blood for the spell.

Kai rolled his eyes, "Relax Jo, I'm in no position to get a Bennett witch." Josie tensed. "I made a deal with the Necromancer; can't leave until it's fulfilled. So, the ascendant is as useless as dying here."

Josie frowned, confused, she had never even thought about it.

"You can't die in the prison world. A prison world perk," Wendy explained.

"The pain still exists," Sebastian glared at Kai. "Kai staked me when I arrived, but I was reborn."

Kai shrugged, "I thought you were Damon Salvatore, I panicked, okay? Jeez."

"Both ridiculously hot," Jade collapsed on the couch beside Josie, kicking off her boots.

"Reminds me," Sebastian threw a piece of the ascendant at Kai. "I never returned the favour."

Kai pulled the metal from his neck, "I'm going to ki-" but he bled out over the cushions.

Sebastien tilted his head, squinting at the Gemini usurper with a hard of hearing expression.

"He really ought to be more careful," Sebastian grinned, "I heard you died?"

Josie shrugged, "You heard wrong." It was strange to be home, yet far from home at the same time.

Jade and Wendy poured bourbon, whilst The Necromancer heated pizza in the oven. Josie almost felt at home, if it weren't for the darkness pushing its way further into her soul.

"How is Elizabeth?" Sebastian asked, after a beat.

"She misses you," Josie replied, before joining Jade and Wendy for a game of chess.

After dinner, Josie left Kai fiddling with the ascendant after his momentary bout of death, and bid Wendy, Jade and Sebastian good night. She was about to turn off her light, wearing one of Damon's t-shirts, when Kai appeared, startling her.

"I'm far from perfect, Josie, but I know what it's like to live in the shadows of someone else."

Kai perused Stefan's room, and pulled journals out at random years, _1864, 1920, 1955, 1982…_

"I grew up alongside siblings who could do magic the natural way, who were born to erase me from existence. I wanted to be like them, but when the chance to lead the coven came, my father denied me my birth right and I realised to them, I was nothing. I could only regain my power by eradicating my competition. Josette did her best to protect Olivia and Lucas. Wisely, she agreed to the merge, but instead trapped me here, and you know how _her_ story ends."

Josie felt hot tears burn her eye sockets, facing her bio-mum's murderer in the flesh.

"Are you going to kill me?" Josie voice wavered in anger.

Kai grinned, "Why would I kill one of my own kind? I wanted to say thanks," he said. "I wanted to take away your pain, your grief, your sorrow; take away the burden of being the Hollow's host."

Josie balled her hands, barely able to contain her rage. "No, you want my power for yourself… because you owe it to the Necromancer. That's your ticket out of here," she guessed.

Kai's finger swept through her fringe, cupping her cheek, a violation of her space.

"You do look remarkably like my sister," he mumbled. "She was my favourite, you know."

Josie flinched, hatred in her eyes. "_Go to Hell_."

Kai dropped his hand from her face, accepting her answer.

"Don't forget, dear Josie, as Gemini leader, you only live because I do. Sweet dreams, Jo-"

Josie touched the wall, soaking in as much magic she could muster before blasting Kai from her room. "Only my friends call me Jo," she hissed, slamming the door in his wake.

It was Sebastian's laugh which echoed through her locked door.

She was reminded of Lizzie, of their never-ending fears related to the merge, and who would win.

She knew her anger could be her downfall; it was always what hurt people.

Josie slid down the door and threw her head into her shaking hands.

"_Don't be someone you're not. You're Josie, you're my sister and I love you. We all do."_

"_Maybe I want to be someone else for a change. Maybe I don't want to be a twin anymore."_

"_Jo, you don't mean that?" Lizzie asked, aghast._

"_Maybe I don't, but don't you ever just want to know what it could have been like?"_

"_No, because you're my best friend Josie, and I can't imagine a world without you."_

Josie struggled to decide whether her sacrifice had been a weakness or a strength – she thought it had been a strength, but now, as she faced an empty room, she regretted choosing to be the hero.

There was a timid knock on the door, and Josie opened it, to find Jade on the other side.

"I thought you might want some company. I'm sorry about Kai, he doesn't know when to shut up."

Jade watched Josie crumble at the knees and wrapped her vampire body around her.

"It's okay, let it all out, I can handle it."

Loneliness; anxiety; grief; anger, everything she had been holding onto for the last fifty years exploded from her small frame in the form of thick tears that rendered her useless – a mess of emotions. Josie had never been open to another person in this way before, other than her sister.

Except for Hope, Hope who had been her best friend, her crush, and possible soulmate.

Of course, Hope had no idea, and Josie realised, she was probably back with Landon now.

Josie pulled apart from Jade, a 'thank you' struggling to appear on the end of her tongue.

Jade brushed Josie's hair from her face, a tender gesture that gave her comfort.

"Feel better now?"

Josie nodded, seeing Jade's eyes sparkle in the moonlight.

* * *

**2029, Lockwood cellars**

Caroline entered the Lockwood cellars with wolfsbane. Hope had put a concealment charm there when she'd first arrived – fighting for a haven for transitioning wolves. The claw marks, broken chains and spilled blood were reminders of sacrifice, embedded into legend. Caroline remembered Tyler's first transformation and how scared they had both been – a werewolf bite could kill a vampire, and yet she didn't care, she just wanted to be there for her friend, who needed her.

Caroline set the wolfsbane on the ground, "I know it's a full moon, and it's scary, but I have wolfsbane and Tyler Lockwood swore by it. Use it sparingly, it burns, like vervain burns a vampire. I have more chains, and I'm not going anywhere."

Jed came out of the shadows first, followed by Rafael and then more wolves.

Caroline gave them a reassuring smile. Jed and Rafael were down to their Calvin Kleins. Caroline dropped the chains where they echoed against the stone floors. Hope hurried down the stairs, her hair tied back into plaits. As part wolf, she knew more about the transition than anyone, but for tribrids, she could turn at will, and the transition no longer caused pain or trauma.

"I have a proposition," she said to the pack, "Bonnie gave me her blessing, but it's your choice."

Caroline sighed, giving Hope the floor, encouraging her with a nod.

"I'm a Tribrid, part witch, werewolf, and vampire. If I give you my blood, you'll become hybrids, you can turn at will, but you will have a hunger for blood, and you will have to feed to survive."

Hope licked her lip, nervously, watching Rafael, she loved him, but this could change everything.

Rafael looked around at his pack, all different ages, all had experienced the trauma of the curse. Not all had suffered through their first transition – he smiled at Hope, taking her hands in his.

"Thanks Hope, but this is the price I paid when I killed Cassie. The curse is a part of me now. Besides, I just learnt which pack I was descended from, and I want to know more about them. As Alpha, I have a responsibility to protect my pack, but I love that you wanted to do this for me, for us."

Rafael kissed her and placed his forehead against hers. "I love you, you know that, right?"

Hope nodded, hugging Rafael, and burying her tears into his shirt. "I love you too."

Jed blurted, "So you just collectively decide what is right for all of us, then?"

Rafael turned his head, "Alpha's make decisions that are best for the pack as a whole."

Jed punched the wall, his transition about to begin, unable to control his frustration.

Caroline vamped over to Jed, holding him so he could not hurt himself or anyone else.

"Hybrids aren't immortal, they have weaknesses, just like any of us."

Jed picked up a wolfsbane bottle and chugged it down, whimpering.

Rafael caught sight of Hope on the stairs, tears in her eyes.

He smiled, "Ask me again next full moon," he said, his eyes glowing a vibrant yellow.

* * *

Hope raised her eyes to the heavens, thinking of her parents, and missing them more than ever.

Lizzie was waiting for her, and she'd brought as many witches as she could find.

"Alaric's visiting Damon and Elena, you know, his _other_ daughter," Alyssa hissed as they walked by.

Lizzie pulled the ascendant from her pocket. "I took it from dad's office."

Hope stood with her, surrounded by curious classmates.

"I have the ascendant, and I want to bring them all back," Lizzie announced, looking at Alyssa.

Kaleb pushed his way to the front of the circle.

"You'll need Bennett blood, mine is useless, but Pedro is here to help."

There was a scatter of responses, and a hint of anxiety masquerading as bravery.

"The more witches we have, the stronger our magic will be. Help us."

Davina emerged from a pillar, impressed by their soiree. "We thought we might find you here."

Freya nodded, "We didn't expect this many, but it's nice to know you're making friends, Hope."

Hope sighed, "I didn't tell you because I knew this was how you'd react. _It's for Josie_."

Davina understood, "I know, she's your family." Hope felt Lizzie's hand in hers.

Freya revealed something in her hand, "Bonnie gave us a phial of her blood, and the spell we need. But you must understand the risk – and what it will mean in bringing back your friends."

Hope knew where this was going, "Kai is dangerous, we know. I won't let him leave."

Davina came down the steps, her earrings swaying in the breeze. Hope could see the moon shining through the rain clouds. She heard the claws scraping against the cellar, agonizing howls, and somewhere amongst them all she heard Rafael's voice, instructing his pack on what to expect and how not to be afraid. She took his words to heart, taking Penelope's hand.

"Alyssa, hold hands with Lizzie and Hope." Davina instructed, as Freya unplugged the phial.

Alyssa saw Caroline exit the cellar.

"Have my spot, you shouldn't be separated from your daughters any longer."

Alyssa offered her spot to Caroline, who took it at the bequest of Hope and Lizzie.

Freya gave the phial to Penelope, who emptied it onto the ascendant.

Hope spotted it far too late, the smirk that occupied Alyssa's lips as the spell was put in motion. Caroline saw it too. A way to enact revenge for everything that had befallen her friends. Lizzie felt the earth's elements enacting their transportation to the Prison World, they would see Josie soon.

Davina and Freya watched Caroline, Lizzie, Hope and Penelope, ascend into the Prison World.

Alyssa smirked, and Freya's pendant burst into smithereens having taken the brunt of the spell.

"What did you do?" Davina grabbed Alyssa's arm.

"You of all people should know what it's like to feel betrayed. Now we'll see exactly what your precious Hope is made of. Can she save Josie, or will she side with a sociopath like her father?"

* * *

"Something's wrong," MG said from the Salvatore boarding school cellar. "I can't hear them."

Bonnie sat with MG, waiting for the blood to leave his system.

"You didn't?" MG tried to read Bonnie's expression. "You gave Freya your blood. They're gone."

Bonnie sighed, looking back into Milton Greasley's anxious expression, his lips stained with blood.

"Caroline will find Josie, and everything will be as it was," Bonnie whispered.

Kol sat with Bonnie, worried for Davina, even though on every occasion, he feared her wrath.

"Tell me about Malachai, they say, you're the only one he fears."

Bonnie stared at the bars keeping MG safe, "He's no Silas."

Kol threw MG a blood bag, breaking his fast.

"You were no kinder to him. You know Bonnie, sometimes I think we should all fear you."

Bonnie laughed, "Fear, is just a steppingstone to courage."

Clarke stumbled down the stairs, his entrance nowhere near as stealthy as he'd hoped.

"You're not Dorian, or Jeremy," Kol glanced at Bonnie for any scoop.

"I'm the new history teacher, Ryan Clarke. I was looking for the kitchen?"

Clarke looked between Kol and Bonnie, and then MG slurping away at his blood bag.

Bonnie sighed, leaving her post, "I need a coffee," she said, leading Clarke back up the stairs.

* * *

Caroline watched the Salvatore Boarding House rematerialize in front of her.

Memories flooded through her mind of Stefan and Damon Salvatore – she could almost see them; Damon standing in front of the curtains, always with a bourbon in hand, yelling about something that annoyed him, and referring to her as some nickname meant to infuriate her, and Stefan on the couch, annoyed by his brother's inability to stay out of it.

Elena, in the middle, torn between both brothers.

Caroline remembered helping Stefan with Elena; his phase with Katherine, Rebekah, and Ivy, and all the times she had come to him about Matt, Tyler, and Klaus. She remembered how blind they had both been towards each other's affections; the angst, the drama, and the pain, but like any true love story, they found their way back and treasured every moment until the end.

"Mum, are you okay?" Lizzie asked, shaking her out of her daydream.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Find Sebastian. Hope and Penelope, find Josie. I'll wait here."

Caroline didn't mention his name, but she knew he was there, and he wouldn't stay hidden for long.

"Josie!" Hope yelled, using her wolf instincts to listen out for her.

Caroline poured herself a glass of bourbon, and sat by the fireplace, sipping her drink.

"Well, well, _Cathy_, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Kai Parker dabbed himself with a towel.

She sculled the rest of her glass. "It's Caroline. You look like Hell."

Kai glanced at his bloodied clothes. "How's Bonnie?" he asked, a hint of malice in his eye.

Caroline glared at him, "She's good."

"Saint Bonnie," Kai tilted his head to the side. "Let me guess, you're here to rescue Josie. You may be too late. She knows what it's like to be left behind. Malivore did a number on her. She's not the same Josie, you knew. Heck, she's nothing like Josette. She's more like me than she realises."

Caroline vamp sped across the room, her hand against his neck, eyes like daggers.

"Kill me, and you kill your daughters, remember?" he mumbled.

Caroline released him, aware of every lie he tells, there was always a hidden truth.

"How do I save them from the merge?" she hissed.

Kai could see the desperation in her eyes, the same desperation he saw in Lucas' that night, powered by something he had never felt in his life – love.

"You can't. All you can do, is watch one of them die."

Kai saw the tears build up in Caroline's eyes, he was reminded of when he cursed Elena.

"Don't worry, their 22nd birthday is only a guideline, it can happen sooner than you think."

Kai left Caroline stunned, and closed the door to the boarding house – intent on Malivore. Jade was sitting on the patio, judging by her expression, she had heard everything. He brushed by her, not caring what she thought. He didn't care about anything or anyone.

"You can't leave us." Jade grabbed his arm; it was her mistake.

Kai latched his fingers onto hers, taking the power she didn't know she had.

Jade's knees crumbled, and she screamed as he siphoned the magic from her body.

"Watch me, and thanks for the power boost, it's what I need to survive Malivore."

Kai leered at her, her cries were a warning, to anyone who got in his way.

"Tell the Necromancer… what's the point, none of you will remember me anyway."

Caroline burst through the door, picking up Jade, but Kai was long gone.

"We have to stop him!" Jade attempted to go after him, but Caroline held her still.

"If Kai wants to erase himself from history, so be it. I'm here to bring you all home."

Wendy cupped Jade's face, "I'm here. I'm here. _I'm going to burn Kai alive._"

Hope, and Penelope were waiting inside the door, with no sign of Josie.

Lizzie stood, hand in hand with Sebastian, "Mum, this is Sebastian, my boyfriend."

"Hello," Caroline shook Sebastian's hand, he was charming, polite and had won Lizzie's heart. He even wore a tux, and somewhere along the way, Lizzie had changed into a periwinkle blue dress, reminiscent of Cinderella – maybe she should have been more wary, but all she wanted to do was give her children everything they desired, before it was stolen from them.

"Jade, would you mind putting on a pot of tea. I think I need to have a word with The Necromancer."

* * *

Penelope sat in the greenhouse, unsure of her feelings for Lizzie, her feelings that were obviously unrequited and possibly misguided. Hope sat beside her, kicking her legs off the table, her mind off with the pixies, as Bonnie used to say.

"You said, I loved her. Josie. How can I have loved her, but not remember her?"

"Malivore stripped you of your memories of her. Josie was your first love. You were like Thelma and Louise, you fought, but you made up, and I think even when you were apart, you loved each other."

Penelope touched the plants in the greenery, surprised to find them watered and healthy.

"I try to remember her, I want to remember her, but _something_ blocks me."

Hope frowned, jumping off the table, "She has to be here somewhere."

Penelope sighed, "Caroline's going to make a deal with the Necromancer, isn't she?"

Hope shrugged, "I guess. A deal with the devil," she answered, reminded of her father.

Penelope looked out the glass stained windows in a hope that she'd see Josie looking back.

After a beat, Penelope said: "Do you think if she asked him, he'd bring back your parents?"

Hope bit her lip, her plaits frayed and curly from the hint of rain on the wind.

"I don't know, but I don't think that's the question on her mind, right now."

Penelope hugged Hope, "Who'd have thought you and I would be friends in another dimension."

Hope laughed, "Not me," and she rested her chin on Penelope's shoulder, her mind full of worry.

* * *

Josie found the Necromancer in the garage, the door shut, locked in the Camaro. She had half a mind to leave him, curious to see if the carbon dioxide influenced him, but she was not a heartless person, not like him. She knew when she let Jade into her fears and desires, that she had transferred her magic by accident. She needed clarification, on how to get it back.

She stood by, watching The Necromancer laugh, until she crossed her arms.

Her glare turned the gas into flames, and she watched with no remorse, as the car burned him alive.

"Darkness, it will consume you."

There was banging on the garage door, and then the entire door flew off its hinges.

"Josie!" Caroline sped through the flames, shaking her daughter from her trance.

The flames soured high above them; smoke billowed out into the sky.

Hope and Penelope raised their hands, fingers interlocked to diminish the flames to nothing.

The Necromancer slammed the car door. Josie blinked, taking in a slow and shaky breath.

There was a tinge of smoke in the air but otherwise the garage and car were unharmed.

"_Josie! Are you okay sweety?" _Caroline hugged her, relieved to hold her in her arms again.

"Ah, unconditional love. What do you wish Miss Forbes-Salvatore?" the Necromancer asked.

Josie's eyebrows knotted together in confusion, seeing Hope and Penelope together. They were not friends, nor were they enemies, were they? Hope rushed forwards, hugging Josie in a hug that knocked her backwards. Hope's smile lit up the Prison World and made Josie's heart pound in delight. Penelope, her first love, threw out her hands, and pulled them both to their feet.

"Sorry it took me so long to get here," Penelope apologised.

Hope grinned and noticed Caroline shake hands with the Necromancer, in a deal she had missed.

"You're just in time," Josie whispered.

**A/N: Booyah. I'm stopping here before your minds implode like mine just did. More surprises and twists to come in the upcoming final chapters. Stay tuned and be sure to leave a review.**


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